


The Dead Can Live

by lemondilemma



Category: The Eagle | The Eagle of the Ninth (2011)
Genre: Canon Era, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-05
Updated: 2014-01-29
Packaged: 2018-01-03 14:35:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 43,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1071606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemondilemma/pseuds/lemondilemma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Marcus hears rumours about himself and Esca, he is consumed with shame and reluctantly pushes Esca away. Then a face from Esca's past, thought long dead, reappears and Marcus must accept that it may be too late to win back the man he loves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This follows on from my earlier story You Will Not Be Forgotten but you don’t need to read it to read this.

The rumours first reached Marcus’s ears a little less than a year after returning from the northern territory. 

All day long he had noticed people staring at him and although this was something he had grown accustomed to over the past months, their eyes did not hold the usual awe and respect that he received whenever they saw him; Marcus Flavius Aquila, hero of all Rome and her territories, retriever of the lost eagle standard. Some seemed to look at him in disgust, some raised their eyebrows and others seemed on the verge of laughter. They whispered to each other as he passed and a few of those he did business with frowned at him and were distant in their manner.

“Pay no mind to him,” a familiar, friendly trader told him when Marcus was snubbed by one of the other stallholders in the busy marketplace. “If he spent more time looking after his own affairs and less time listening to rumours, his wife wouldn’t be servicing half the town behind his back.”

Perplexed and not a little annoyed, Marcus had meant to ask what rumours the stallholder had been listening to but the friendly trader, an honest man if a little inclined to mix business with torrents of inane chatter, had launched into a discussion of politics that had taken them some time and left Marcus longing for a pitcher of cool water and some wine, any thought of rumours long forgotten. Tired and hungry also, his business done for the day, he had sought out a tavern and sat quietly in a corner, paying no mind to the other patrons, gratefully filling his empty stomach and quenching his thirst with watered wine. The tavern was busy and although he could easily have returned to his uncle’s in time to partake of the evening meal, he had foregone the prospect of boiled eggs and fish again and taken advantage of the generous portions of food on offer, only a short walk from the forum. Besides, his leg was starting to protest and without Esca’s knowing hands to knead the pain from the cramping muscles, Marcus was reluctant to deny himself an immediate excuse to rest it.

Calleva was the best part of a day’s journey from their farm and Esca had, as usual, remained behind to tend to the animals while Marcus had set out for his Uncle’s villa the day before, spending the night in his old room before setting out for the town after breakfast to trade, settle accounts and generally hobnob. It had been a long day and he hoped that his Uncle was not in the mood for lengthy discussions on his return. All Marcus wanted to do was sleep and then set off in the morning to return to Esca.

As he ate the last of his food and drained his cup, the conversation of a nearby group of men caught his attention and he stilled, remembering the whispers and strange looks that had dogged him earlier, an uneasy feeling washing over him as he listened.

“Can you imagine?” one of them said. “Such bravery to do what he did, retrieving the standard from those bloodthirsty barbarians, to then do something so shameful. I can scarcely believe it.”

“Well, I for one don’t believe it,” piped up another indignantly. “I think it’s nothing but spite from someone who wishes to taint the good name of a true Roman.”

Marcus hunched over his empty plate, his ears straining to hear, his brow furrowed deeply. They were talking about him, surely but what possible shameful rumours could be circulating about him? He and Esca kept to themselves, farming their land and working hard, their more intimate activities kept for the privacy of their little farmhouse. He had never engaged in drunken fights, never left his bills unpaid or run up huge gambling debts but something had caused people in Calleva to look at him differently. Anxiety gnawed at his insides and he began to wish he hadn’t eaten so much, the food sitting heavily in his churning stomach. Perhaps he had simply misunderstood the men and was now receiving his due for eavesdropping.

“Nonsense,” said a new voice. “Any true Roman of such notoriety would be married by now, eager to continue his line and bolster the population with a brood of sturdy Roman babes. You mark my words, he’ll never pass on his family name with only a native-born freedman to warm his bed.”

“Perhaps in the midst of all that excitement beyond the wall, he got a knock on the head and now he’s forgotten that his little Briton isn’t a slave anymore.” There was a round of raucous laughter. “My brother freed one of his slaves once, lovely buxom thing she was. Worst thing he could ever have done. If she’d stayed a slave he could’ve carried on bedding her for years but once she was free his wife put her foot down and that was that!”

Someone slammed his cup down on the table. “It can’t be true. I simply won’t believe it.” It was the indignant man, the one who had accused someone of spreading gossip out of spite. “No good Roman, as Aquila has proved himself to be, would fornicate with his freedman.”

Any further conversation was drowned out by more laughter and shouts for extra wine to be brought. Marcus held his breath in disbelief. The rumours were about him and Esca! How could this be? They had always been so careful, never allowing themselves to touch outside the sturdy walls of their little house, taking great pains to ensure that they never held each others gaze too long if others were present. Nobody could know about them. 

It was nothing but rumours, he told himself, rumours that would blow over as soon as those with nothing better to do than pass judgement on others had something else to gossip about. He burned with shame all the same, sweat pricking the back of his neck and across his chest. Marcus stood up and hurried out of the tavern, shielding his face as much as he could and hoping that nobody paid him any attention, focused as tavern patrons tended to be on their drinks and their own conversations. His leg protested but he ignored it as he stumbled away from the tavern, his head bowed as he made his way through the narrow streets and alleys of Calleva towards the gate that would see him out of the town. He stopped before he reached the gate however, crippled this time by humiliation and not his leg. 

Marcus steadied himself against the wall of a shop and emptied his dinner onto the ground.

 

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“Are you hungry?” Uncle Aquila looked up from a scroll. “You’re much later than I expected but I can ask Stephanos to bring you something.”

“No,” Marcus said, “I have had all I can stomach for one day, thank you.” He had hoped to avoid his uncle, creeping into the villa as quietly as he could but to no avail.

Shrewd eyes looked him up and down. “Is all well? You look rather pale.”

“It’s nothing for you to concern yourself with, Uncle.”

“And yet something worries you Marcus.” Those beady, clever eyes under their heavy eyebrows bored into him, seeing past his feeble attempt to conceal the truth. “Anything that worries you to the extent that it makes you ill concerns me. I was a soldier for many years, my boy. I know when a man has spilled his stomach.”

“I’m sure it is nothing. A misunderstanding on my part, nothing more.”

“Come now.” The old man stood and clapped a hand on Marcus’s shoulder then patted it gently, drawing Marcus outside onto the colonnade and sitting beside him in the cool evening air. “Tell your nosy old uncle what happened.”

Marcus leaned forward and took a deep breath, his hands clasped by his knees, his eyes staring blindly at the ground. Perhaps it wouldn’t be such a bad thing to tell him. Perhaps Uncle Aquila would have a solution to the problem – a few words in the right ears the next time he ventured into the town and Marcus would no longer be the subject of talk.

“I heard some….rumours today in Calleva,” he began. “Rumours about me. They seemed to be rather widespread.”

“Ah,” said Uncle Aquila, drawing out the sound, the tone of his voice betraying his prior knowledge of the rumours. Marcus stared up at him, incredulous. “An unfortunate occurrence but possibly inevitable.”

“How long have you known?” Marcus asked, humiliation once more gripping him, his chest tightening until it was painful to take a breath in.

A large hand waved in the air, as if trying to sweep away any awkwardness in the situation. “Oh, they’ve been circulating for a month or two now, just idle tittle tattle.”

“And yet you said nothing?”

“Not exactly the thing to bring up at dinner on the few occasions I see you.” Uncle Aquila leaned forward to mirror Marcus’s posture. “Besides, you don’t want to let such gossip affect you. Did I not tell you once that Britain is full of nothing but rumours?” 

The old man huffed out a laugh but Marcus failed to see anything funny. A month or two, he had said. People had been talking for a month or two and Marcus had never noticed. He put his head in his hands and thought back over previous visits to Calleva, wondering how he could have been so blind. 

“Would you like such things said about you?” he snapped angrily. “I am a Roman, uncle, and proud to be so. Esca is my freedman. It brings shame upon us.” Marcus stood and paced up and down the colonnade, his feet unsure whether to stay or to flee into the darkness. “Is this family ever to be free of taint?”

“Marcus, my boy, you have always worried overmuch what other people think. Everyone is subject to rumour. Men, women, emperors. No-one is safe.”

“But I risked everything to restore our name. Everything!”

“And people have not forgotten that,” Uncle Aquila assured him. “I have no wish to make this worse for you Marcus but it must be said that you brought this upon yourself.”

“How so?” Marcus snapped back, appalled that his flesh and blood could say such a thing.

“You have always shown Esca too much favour, slave or otherwise, and you appear to have overlooked one vital point in all this.” He raised his eyebrows as Marcus opened his mouth to protest. “The rumours are true, are they not? Will you deny to me that Esca shares your bed?”

Marcus’s mouth hung open as he tried to form the words to make a denial and failed. Uncle Aquila stood and once more patted him reassuringly on the shoulder.

“People will soon forget their gossiping and move on to something new and far more scandalous. Just because you cannot hide the truth from one wily old man does not mean anyone else has proof although I can hardly say that I approve. As far as I am concerned, you have always allowed your….” He searched for the appropriate word. “…your affection for Esca to cloud your judgement.” 

Marcus closed his eyes tightly. His uncle’s disapproval cut deep although it had not been meant to, for the old man had always been kind to him and understanding in his own gruff, absent-minded way.

“Who is the source of all this?” he asked quietly, wanting to be away from here, away from this conversation with his uncle. Perhaps he would wake the next morning and find it had all been a bad dream.

Uncle Aquila shook his head. “I have no idea,” he replied. “It will pass, Marcus. Now, you have a long journey ahead of you tomorrow. I suggest you get a good night’s sleep and forget all about this unpleasantness. We shall never speak of it again.”

A good night’s sleep never came to Marcus however and he lay in his bed long into the night, his mind turning over the events of the day as he tried to will himself to rise above the gossip. He told himself over and over that he didn’t care what people thought, that he wanted nothing but to be left alone to tend his farm but the idea kept slipping away. He thought of everything he had endured north of the wall, all of it so he could restore glory to the Aquila name. He had achieved what he set out to do and now he had once more allowed the taint of shame to go hand in hand with his family. 

They had been so happy though, he and Esca, working together on their land that he had given no thought to the possibility of a wife and children or the implications of a lack thereof. And it had been happiness. The journey through the northern wilds and back to Calleva had seen Marcus’s affection for Esca grow until it became more, much more, Esca returning his love gladly. Marcus had seen his own natural reserve soften, even becoming friendly with some of the neighbouring farmers and accepting invitations to their homes to tell his tales of adventure and almost-death. Esca never went with him, preferring to stay behind on their own farm but he would often be waiting, lantern in hand when Marcus staggered home, loose-limbed and woolly-headed after a bellyful of wine or mead. How could he have allowed his own happiness to ruin everything he had promised his father in his prayers?

When at last morning came and Marcus rose, exhausted, the guilt and shame he felt had already taken hold of him, coursing through his veins like a poison.


	2. Chapter 2

Esca looked up from his work for what felt like the hundredth time that day but this time he was rewarded by the sight of the cart lumbering down the road that led to the farm, Marcus perched atop it, and he smiled fondly. Setting down the tool he’d been mending, he walked part of the way to meet the cart, raising his hand to welcome the traveller home. Usually Marcus would return from his trips to Calleva much earlier in the day, eager as he was to escape the bustling town and his uncle’s endless talk, but he was late on this occasion and Esca had considered riding out to meet him in case the cart had thrown a wheel or some other disaster had befallen Marcus and their precious supplies.

“How goes it in Calleva?” he called out when Marcus was close enough to hear over the rumbling of the wheels on the uneven surface of the ground. “Were you delayed on the road? I was almost beginning to worry.”

Marcus pulled up the cart next to him, his eyes remaining fixed on the rump of the sturdy old cart-horse before he looked down at Esca and gave him a half-hearted smile.

“My mind was elsewhere today I think and I let Agilis wander home at his own pace instead of hurrying him along,” he replied. “I did not mean to worry you. I am sorry.” Marcus seemed preoccupied with his thoughts, his unusually quiet voice trailing off and his eyes scanning the fields around them as though he had suddenly forgotten Esca’s presence. A deep breath which he blew out between pursed lips soon brought him back to the here and now and this time he bestowed a much heartier smile upon Esca although it took obvious effort to do so. “As I am late,” he offered, “I shall unload the cart myself and let you rest on a bale of hay while I work. Agreed?”

Esca grinned and took hold of the horse’s bridle, leading him the rest of the way to the barn. “A fine idea,” he said, “one of your finest, but this old man needs to be taken care of.” He ran his free hand over the velvet muzzle of Agilis and smiled to himself as he always did when he thought of the irony in the name of the large, ungainly horse. “Shall I rub you down while Marcus labours, eh? We can think up more ways to punish him for his tardiness.”

He glanced up at the cart but Marcus had once more focused his attention elsewhere and was not listening, his handsome face stony and unsmiling. Agilis however gave Esca his full attention and nodded his approval, butting his head gently against Esca’s chest as they came to a halt in front of the barn. Marcus climbed down from the cart and immediately busied himself with unloading the supplies he had brought back so Esca freed the horse and led him to his stable, still talking to the animal as he rubbed him down and settled him in his stall. 

When he was done, Esca considered helping Marcus but a loud rumble from his stomach announced that his time would be better spent preparing them some dinner so he made his way into the house and began to warm the remainder of the fish stew over the fire. He set out their eating bowls, bread and water to drink and it was not long before Marcus joined him and the two of them sat at the rough-hewn table to eat.

“Did you get everything we needed?” Esca asked when it became apparent that Marcus had no intention of initiating a conversation while he stared at the stew in his bowl and barely ate any of it. “The cart seemed full enough.”

Marcus nodded, tearing a chunk of bread from the loaf and dipping it in his bowl but he said nothing so Esca tried again to engage him.

“Is all well?” he asked. “There is no bad news about your uncle I hope.”

“No,” Marcus replied quietly. “He is thriving, as ever.” Done with his food, he stood and dropped a coin purse on the table. “He even purchased some of the goods I took to trade, his way of adding to our coffers.” 

The old man had always been generous to them but Marcus sounded unexpectedly aggrieved, as if his uncle’s money was an insult to his pride. Esca could not decide whether it was weariness that made Marcus so unlike himself this evening or some other misery come over him but he shrugged it off as one of his friend’s Roman moods. Sometimes, time spent with his uncle saw Marcus revert to stiff, proper Roman ways until Esca could draw it out of him, stripping away the old formality as he stripped away Marcus’s clothing. He smiled at the thought, a flush of heat warming his cheeks as he pictured Marcus coming apart underneath him later that night, straining and eager for release after two nights away from home.

“Are you glad to be home?” he asked, watching Marcus pour water from a large, plain pitcher to wash his hands and face. “I’ll wager you’ve missed some of the comforts of our lowly farmhouse that cannot be had at your uncle’s villa,” he added slyly, putting as much promise of pleasures to come in his voice as he could.

Marcus momentarily stilled then continued his ablutions and it was several seconds before he replied with no more than a faint hum of agreement. A sudden wave of annoyance washed over Esca at the unenthusiastic response and he drew his brows together, his mouth pulling into a pout and his jaw clenching. Whatever it was that had got under Marcus’s skin had better not deprive him of the sport he’d anticipated ever since he’d watched the cart rumble away at the start of its journey to Calleva! He abruptly left the table and stalked outside, leaving Marcus to his mood, and finished his few remaining chores in the darkness that had fallen while they were eating. Damn it all, the man had not even asked how things had been at the farm since he’d been away! 

When he returned to the little house, Marcus was sitting by the fire and staring down at the floor in contemplation, his leg stretched out in front of him while one hand rubbed at his thigh. It was a sight Esca had seen too many times before and his annoyance gave way to the care that always gripped him whenever he saw Marcus in discomfort, whether it was the leg itself that pained him or old thoughts of what his injury had cost him. There was more to this than just his leg though and Esca resolved to discover what.

“What troubles you, Marcus?” he asked softly, moving to sit beside him at the fire, hoping to coax a confession from him that could then be dealt with, laughed over and forgotten. “Tell me and we shall share the burden between us."

Marcus looked up at him as though about to speak but then he seemed to change his mind over what to say, sighing and once more staring down at the floor.

“I am tired and my leg troubles me.” He stopped rubbing at his thigh but with his face lit by the fire, Esca could see lines of pain around his eyes and the way his mouth pulled tight. “If there are no more chores to be done, I shall go to bed.”

Esca shook his head, holding back the desire to scold Marcus for overtaxing his leg once more. 

“Shall I see to it for you?” he asked, rubbing his hands together to warm them but Marcus waved him away, his eyes looking everywhere but directly at Esca.

“No need,” he mumbled. “I would prefer simply to sleep. I’m sure all will be well by morning.”

Esca reached out and laid a hand on his arm as he had a thousand times before but Marcus seemed to shy away from him, his whole body tensing as he drew in a deep breath. 

“I am tired,” he said again, finally meeting Esca’s eyes with his own, a strange expression of sadness and uncertainty on his face. “Good night Esca.” 

Slowly, as if the movement caused him great effort, Marcus stood and turned away, leaving Esca frowning after him.

 

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Two pallets lay on the ground in the sleeping area, one for each of them although every night they would push them together to make one larger bed and lie close. Marcus always slept on his back while Esca preferred to curl up on his side, nestling into Marcus, head resting on his shoulder while Marcus’s arms encircled him. Tonight however Marcus had laid on his own bed without moving Esca’s near. 

As he stood in the shadows with his arms hugged tightly across his chest and watched Marcus sleep, Esca still pondered what had happened to make him behave so strangely. Perhaps he was simply so tired that he had fallen on his pallet and immediately been overcome by sleep before he’d had the chance to move Esca’s bedding near. Perhaps he expected Esca to do it himself when he retired for the night. Still, there was something about his manner since his return from Calleva that made Esca hesitate to move his pallet closer to where Marcus lay, on his side for once, his back towards where Esca would lie. He knew Marcus, knew him as well as he knew himself. They were each two halves of the same being after all but there was something more to this than pain in his leg or the legacy of a visit with his uncle. Still frowning but recalling Marcus’s words and hoping that all would indeed be well come morning, Esca removed his tunic and huddled under his bedding, feeling cold despite the lingering warmth from the dying fire.


	3. Chapter 3

In his dreams, Esca comes to him and whispers that all is well, that he was mistaken about the rumours he heard and they are safe within their little house. Nobody can touch them, not even Rome herself can penetrate the sturdy walls that protect them from the outside world for this is their territory and theirs alone. This is land they bought with Rome’s blessing and they adhere only to their own laws within the boundaries of that land. Esca soothes him with his words and then he touches him and Marcus is glad, relief flooding through him. All at once the fear that he can no longer allow himself to show his love for Esca ebbs away, bleeding into the soft grass-covered ground where he lies as he has bled before into the soil of a different place, in another life, when the chariot pierced his thigh. 

He allows himself to surrender to Esca, joy swelling up within him and making him laugh but then the joy is gone and an icy tendril of doubt has wormed its way into his soul. How can Esca tell him he is mistaken when he knows nothing of the rumours? How can he be lying on a bed of grass when he is within the walls of their home? Marcus looks around then and he sees them – a faceless crowd watching as he and Esca lie naked together in the open. The laughter that he thought was his own is now the crowd’s as they jeer at him – only him, for he is a Roman and they care nothing about Esca. He hears disdainful name-calling, whispers of shame and disgust as fingers point and condemning eyes continue to watch. Marcus is torn; he wants to cling to Esca as he clung to him in the river as they fled the Seal People but his arms will no longer reach for his friend. Instead, they lie heavy and still by his side as Esca begins to fade away to nothing. Too late, Marcus calls Esca’s name and then, to his horror, one of the faces in the crowd comes into focus and it is his father. His father, whose name is once more in tatters, stares coldly and then turns from him, his shape blurring into that of an eagle as he flies away, far away from the son he no longer wants to know; the son who, through weakness and perversion, will allow the name of Aquila to die out, cursed for all time.

His father is ashamed of him and Esca is gone and Marcus has lost everything.

Although it is in his mind now that this is nought but a dream, Marcus feels every emotion – desire, fear, shame, loss – as keenly as he would feel a thousand daggers piercing his heart.

 

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The new day had only just broken when Marcus awoke, shivering from both the sheen of sweat that had cooled his skin and the conflicting feelings that the dream had aroused. He rose quietly and dressed himself, careful not to wake Esca for he was afraid of what may be said between them and he had no wish to confront that situation just yet. There was much for him to think on before he would be able to clearly see the path ahead.

He took some bread and a skin of water and went out into the gathering light, walking a short distance to where he could sit unobserved beneath a thick-trunked tree. He picked at the bread as he tried to think of the options open to him but the fog would not lift from his head and when he heard the sounds that signalled Esca had risen and was already beginning his day’s work, Marcus climbed slowly to his feet and joined him.

“I did not mean to wake you so early,” he said, trying to keep the dread that he felt from his voice.

“No matter,” Esca replied. He cast a wary look at Marcus as he gathered food for Agilis and the two other horses they kept. “The day is upon us and there is much to be done, as ever.” They had agreed when they first bought the farm that they would do as much as they could on their own and would hire freedmen to help only when they really needed it, for neither of them wanted to see slaves toiling on their land. Their neighbour Manlius was always willing to loan some of his men but at this time of year it was only the two of them and each day was filled with seeing to the animals, tending the fields and general upkeep of the farm. “How fares your leg this morning?” he continued. “I hope it is better than yesterday.”

“It is,” Marcus told him. An apology leapt to his lips but he forced it down, determined to have things clear in his mind before confessing his troubles. “As you say, there is much to be done and so I had better be about my tasks.”

He could think of nothing else to say that would not invite questions he had no answers to and so he set off for the furthest field where they had already begun to turn the soil in readiness for planting. He set to work and only when his muscles burned with exertion did he sit with his back to a crumbling wall and eat the remainder of the bread he had carried with him, hungry at last. His heart thudded in his chest as his mind, no longer occupied with work, settled on other things. He needed to be strong, to make decisions, make them fast and abide by them. He loved Esca but there was a choice to be made between a life of shame and the ability to hold his head high. Esca loved him in return, he would understand although the thought of ceasing all intimacy between them threatened to tear Marcus’s heart out. If he took a wife and had children then there would surely be an end to the rumours and, though it was not in his heart to take a wife, if he did so then he would satisfy the demands of a world that threatened to cast him out. 

For the rest of the day Marcus worked and thought and worked and thought, his heart vying with his head. When at last the sun lowered in the sky and the evening began to draw in, bringing with it a soft veil of rain, he had settled on which path to take – nothing could be allowed to disgrace his family’s name again, no matter what sacrifices he may have to make to ensure it.

 

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Marcus had obviously taken food and water with him for he stayed out in the far field for the whole day and Esca decided to let him be, assuring himself frequently that by evening time Marcus would come in exhausted but restored to his usual self, hungry for a hot meal and a fuck, whatever had troubled him long forgotten. When finally a rain-soaked Marcus returned to dry himself at the fire and sit down at the table, Esca scrutinized his face for signs of his mood, vexed to notice that he seemed no less reticent than he had been the previous night.

They made small talk like recent acquaintances, ate in silence and finally sat together by the fire, Esca biding his time before reminding Marcus of what he was missing with all his uptight Roman nonsense.

“How long are you going to act as if we barely know each other?” he asked, careful to keep his tone light and free of recrimination. “I am beginning to think you are not my Marcus but an imposter sent by the Gods to test me.”

Marcus looked across at him and smiled but the smile did not reach his golden flecked green eyes. “I am myself,” he said, “but there are things we must speak of, things that have weighed heavily upon me since I went to Calleva.” 

He stood and seemed unsure of what to do with himself, settling his hands on the table top and bowing his head, the line of his shoulders stiff and, if Esca was not mistaken, shaking slightly. Esca moved to stand next to him and Marcus looked up to meet his eyes. Esca grinned. 

“I know what you need to lighten your mood,” he said, keeping his voice low so Marcus could not misunderstand his intention. “Look what happens when you deny yourself, eh?”

Marcus stared back down at the table and shook his head. “No, Esca,” he sighed, his voice barely a whisper.

“It’s alright. Let me help you forget.” Esca ran his hand down the back of Marcus’s tunic and pressed against him but instead of melting into his arms Marcus turned towards him and shoved him hard.

“No!”

Esca was speechless, a surge of rage instinctively rising within him, his fists clenched at his sides. Marcus had never laid a hand on him in anger since giving him his freedom and as Esca fought to gather himself, he determined that he had had enough of this dark, brooding Marcus who had returned to him. Where was his gentle, loving Roman who would steal kisses as their dinner cooked on the fire and make him groan with pleasure long into the night?

Marcus looked stricken and he spoke before Esca had a chance to.

“I…I,” he stuttered, his jaw clenched and his hands balled into fists by his side as Esca’s still were. “I cannot. I am sorry, Esca. I am more sorry than you will ever know.”

Esca opened his mouth to reply, to ask for an explanation but Marcus was gone, out into the softly falling rain. Esca watched him go, his fists uncurling as anger subsided into hurt and disappointment. He remained where he stood for a while, trying desperately to make sense of things and failing, then he sat alone by the fire and stared into the flames and willed himself not to weep with frustration for the first time since being taken as a slave.

 

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Marcus must have decided to sleep in the barn or in the stable with the horses for he did not return and Esca spent a restless night, sleep evading him while his pain slowly turned back to anger. He was a free man, a proud Brigantes and he would not allow anyone, not even Marcus, to treat him in such a way. 

When Marcus came back to the house after sunrise, he looked red-eyed and miserable but Esca would not allow himself to feel sympathy or concern. They worked silently beside each other that day, never speaking of Marcus’s outburst, talking quietly of nothing but farm business and even then addressing each other as strangers, not lovers. Marcus still looked stricken, as if he were torn between continuing as they were and falling to his knees to beg forgiveness but he made no attempt to explain why he had acted as he had nor to repair the damage done and as the morning dragged on he seemed to pull himself together, standing tall and aloof as he must have done in his soldiering days. He went out of his way to ensure there was no physical contact between them but that was fine with Esca for it only served to keep down his hurt and let his anger simmer. He had enough honour of his own that he would not be the one to broach the subject and pave the way for Marcus’s redemption. Marcus had started this and he could swallow his stupid rigid Roman pride and ask for forgiveness otherwise it would not be forthcoming.

“Leave some chores for me,” Marcus said when they had spent the morning circling each other like wary dogs, “and I shall see to them on my return.”

“Where are you going?” asked Esca sharply, anxiety mixing uncomfortably with fury in his gut.

Marcus did not look at him. 

“I thought I would pay a visit to Manlius.”

Round, rosy-cheeked Manlius – another old Roman soldier turned farmer so he and Marcus would talk endlessly of Rome and her armies, of Etruria, of sunshine and olives and earth baked so hard in summer it would crack. Esca huffed. Give him moors that rolled on as far as the eye could see and nourishing rain any time.

“We have work to do,” he snapped. “Is it not rather early to be sampling that fat fool’s wine vats?”

“There is something I wish to do that I am loathe to leave for another day and I shall be back before the animals need feeding,” Marcus replied, his voice firm and steady again, his transformation to cold, distant Roman complete. “I had a mind to pay my respects to Lucilia.”

Lucilia, Manlius’ sturdy, sensible daughter? A thought occurred to Esca - did Marcus want a wife? Was that what all this was about? Esca’s heart thudded in his chest. Although they had never talked of it, he had known that Marcus may one day wish to take a wife and have children but he had never thought his friend would abandon him in order to marry. Esca had always thought that nothing would ever come between them and Marcus had told him as much, whispering promises of eternity to him in the dark of the night.

“Do as you wish,” he grumbled. 

Marcus disappeared into the house and when he emerged he had washed and put on a fresh tunic and braccae, his hair smoothed down over his forehead, his chin freshly shaved. He hesitated then tipped his head to Esca, stiff and formal, and walked away with an almost imperceptible hitch in his gait that only someone who knew him as well as Esca would notice. 

Esca picked up an upturned bowl that had held corn for the chickens before being knocked over and hurled it against the side of the house.


	4. Chapter 4

Manlius had built himself a villa that any Roman farmer would be proud of. It lay within walking distance of the farm that Marcus and Esca had purchased although it could not be seen from their own modest house, obscured by the hill that Marcus now climbed on his way to pay his respects to Manlius and his family. The neighbouring farms had much the same amount of land but while some of Marcus and Esca’s own fields lay fallow, for they only worked as much as they could manage with occasional help, Manlius had a small staff of freedmen and slaves to constantly tend to his crops and his animals. Marcus could see some of them at work in the fields below as he descended the steep, winding path, careful lest his leg give way. He hoped it was not a wasted journey and that Manlius would be at home to receive him. The man was a widower and although his unmarried daughter Lucilia lived with him, he encouraged friends and neighbours to drop by unannounced as he swore that entertaining guests kept him from brooding and becoming lonely.

He must also watch the road for visitors, Marcus thought a little while later, for he had not yet reached the entrance to the villa before Manlius came bustling out to meet him, dispensing with the niceties of sending slaves to meet visitors.

“Good day to you, Aquila,” he called.

“Manlius.” Marcus greeted his neighbour with a smile and forced himself to present an air of cheerfulness he did not feel. It would not do to visit the man in his own home and spread some of the misery he felt.

“Come inside, my young friend. Come inside. To what do we owe the honour of an unsolicited visit from our esteemed neighbour?”

“No other reason other than I was at a loose end today and thought to visit with you,” Marcus lied as they entered the villa, Manlius ushering him inside with such enthusiasm that Marcus could have been the emperor himself. “I hope it is not inconvenient.”

“Never an inconvenience. My doors are always open although you are rather early for dinner.” Manlius sounded almost apologetic. “Still no freedman with you I see. Esca, isn’t it? He is most welcome here, you must tell him that. Now, you will have some wine, won’t you?”

A slave had already appeared with wine and water and set the pitchers down on a small table between two couches. Manlius set himself down heavily, the muscle of his soldiering days long since turned to fat. He had himself been the subject of gossip but as far as Marcus knew it circulated amongst the local farms and no further, and consisted of no more than good natured tut-tutting at Manlius’ tendency to purchase slaves and free them simply because it pleased him to do so. Those who were still slaves were more than happy to serve such a master and all were treated as if they were members of the family. 

“A thousand thanks, my dear fellow,” Manlius said to the slave, smiling conspiratorially to Marcus. “One must keep up appearances for the sake of Rome but I have never seen the purpose in treating slaves badly, have you?” He often asked questions without expecting or waiting for an answer. “It makes for a much better night’s sleep knowing that all those in the household are warm and well-fed. Ah, here is Lucilia, come to help me entertain you. Is she not the most dutiful of daughters, to help her old father?”

Lucilia was a pleasant young woman of around Marcus’ own age, short but hearty with dark hair and a red-cheeked face that was neither plain nor beautiful. Whenever Marcus had spoken to her on previous occasions she had impressed him as practical and industrious, running the household and the farm with care and efficiency while her father did what he loved best and entertained at home or visited with others. Manlius had once confided in Marcus that she would have made the perfect son but he had said so with much fondness and had meant no insult. Marcus watched Lucilia greet her father and could not help but imagine her as a man, with short hair, wearing a plain tunic and braccae, but her image quickly transformed into Esca and he forced his mind onto other things.

“I hope today finds you well, Lucilia,” he said, his resolve wavering for a moment. He took a fortifying drink of his wine and steadied himself. 

“Very well, thank you Marcus. Father was only just saying that we had not seen you for a while.”

“And here he is,” Manlius laughed. “We live so close, he must have heard me, eh? You were in Calleva recently, were you not? What news? I have not travelled there myself for quite some time for I find the hustle and bustle of towns a little overbearing these days. Reminds me of life in the army too much.”

Marcus avoided the subject of news from Calleva and caught Lucilia’s eye. She smiled at him and rolled her eyes as her father chattered on, relating a story about his early days marching with the Eagles. When he had finished they talked, all three of them, of their farms and other neighbours and Marcus did his best to be attentive towards Lucilia and pay her compliments when it seemed appropriate to do so. He would have to undertake some kind of courtship before making his intentions clear of course but it must be done quickly so that the weaknesses in his character did not have time to ensnare him once more. His heart belonged to Esca, it likely always would but he could not have what his heart desired. He had to conform or lose the honour he had spent most of his life fighting for. She would make a good wife, Marcus thought. He had been presented with a problem but here was an amiable, unmarried woman living only a short walk from his own door – it was a sign, a sign from the Gods that he should marry her. Yes, she would be his redemption.

His intention for that day had been to take the first few steps on the path he must follow, to see Lucilia and assure himself of her suitability, and he had done so. Further visits would be made in the days to come and then he would discuss the merging of their households with Manlius. With a plan more solidly formed in his head, one that he would force himself to carry out with military precision, Marcus made his excuses.

“I thank you for your hospitality but it is time I returned home,” he said. “It is hardly fair to expect Esca to do all the work without me.”

“Will you not stay and take dinner with us, Aquila?” Manlius asked, his eyes gleaming as they always did at the thought of food. “There is more than enough to go round.”

“Thank you, no.” Marcus turned to Lucilia. “I shall call on you again soon though.”

“You are always welcome, as you know,” she replied. “Father does enjoy your company.”

“And you?” Marcus asked, feeling thoroughly out of his depths. “I hope you also enjoy my company.” 

His voice sounded stiff and unfamiliar to his own ears and the unexpected formality did not escape Lucilia but she was far too polite to show her surprise. She smiled at him kindly.

“Indeed,” she said. “You and I have had some fine conversations. You have no idea how pleasing it is to have a man talk with me as an equal on such subjects as politics and agriculture.”

Marcus bowed his head to her then to Manlius and took his leave. He breathed deeply and tried to calm the rapid beating of his heart as he made his way back home but as he walked up the road to the farm, there was no familiar sight of Esca waiting for him, no warm greeting called out to him and a pang of regret gripped his heart at the realization that he may never experience such things again.

 

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On his way back from filling buckets of water at the stream, Esca tried not to show that he had noticed Marcus’ return but his traitorous eyes betrayed him and looked up, lingering on Marcus’ face. A look passed between them but Marcus made no mention of his visit to Manlius and Esca had no intention of asking. All through the man’s absence that day he had tried to keep his anger bright and new so he could draw strength from it, enough strength so he would not give in and beg Marcus to abandon thoughts of marriage and return to him. He would not beg! He was free, he would hold his head high and if Marcus no longer wanted him then he would leave and find his own way but each time he stoked the fire that sustained his determination, the spark would be met by a wave of sorrow that left Esca gasping for breath. Everyone he had ever loved, he had lost. He had thought Marcus loved him in return but if so, how could he cast him aside so easily? Another wave of sorrow seized him now and he looked away, unwilling to let Marcus see any sign of weakness in his face.

“The horses need to be fed,” he said, furrowing his brow deeply and forcing himself to sound angry. 

“I will see to it, then I shall prepare us some food.”

“What, and burn it like you always do?” It was easy to allow anger to flare for Marcus did indeed always burn anything he attempted to warm over the fire and it vexed Esca to his absolute limit. “Leave such things to those who know how,” he grumbled.

Marcus made no attempt to argue and he sloped off to the stables. Sorrow firmly subdued for the present, Esca stalked towards the house, scattering a few squawking chickens in his wake. He cursed himself for having forgotten to round them up and then decided to leave that chore to Marcus, continuing on his way, sloshing water from the heavy buckets. 

He was not indoors for long when he heard the sound of a cart pulling up in the yard and curious as to who could be paying them a visit, Esca stepped out of the house to see for himself, praying it was not Lucilia come to throw herself at Marcus.

Marcus had also heard the unexpected arrival and he had come out of the stables to stand before the cart, holding onto the horse’s bridle while his uncle climbed down and greeted him. 

“Marcus,” the old man said, a wide smile splitting his lined and hairy face, clapping a hand on his nephew’s shoulder. “I do hope this is not a bad time for a visit.” 

“You are always welcome, uncle,” Marcus told him as Esca came nearer, wondering whether the old man had brought good news or bad. “We had not expected you however. The day is drawing in, you cannot return to Calleva tonight and we have nowhere prepared for you to sleep.”

“Not to worry,” Uncle Aquila told him. “The old soldier in me shall revel in once more sleeping on the floor although I may require both of you young men and an ox to get me to my feet in the morning.”

He laughed and Marcus joined him, the first time Esca had seen him laugh since returning from Calleva. Instinctively his heart swelled to see that beloved smile once again.

As if only just noticing his presence, Uncle Aquila turned towards Esca, bowing his head but not quite meeting Esca’s eyes. 

“Esca,” he said gruffly, offering no welcoming clap on the shoulder this time.

Esca mumbled a greeting, never sure what to make of Marcus’s uncle but suspecting that the old man did not like him much. 

“I shall make my pallet available to you,” he suggested, knowing it would be expected of him. “I shall sleep well enough in the barn.”

“Most considerate.”

They both followed him indoors, Uncle Aquila stooping slightly to enter the little house, stopping inside the door to look around at their meagre belongings. There was money still left over from the reward that Marcus had been gifted upon returning the eagle standard to the legate in Calleva but they had both agreed to keep it safe and unspent until such time as there was real need for it. Marcus had buried it beneath a tree, marking the site with a large, round stone and there it remained for they had no need of a large home or fine items of furniture. Esca had thought they needed nothing but each other.

“Have you given any thought to enlarging the house?” Uncle Aquila asked. “I know of a few good tradesmen who could assist you.”

“Not yet, uncle,” Marcus replied. He looked at Esca but Esca gave him a frown which had the desired effect of making him lower his eyes. “This is all we need for now.”

“I shall see to your horse,” Esca said quietly, glad to have an excuse to escape the house. Surely with his uncle to watch over him Marcus could produce something edible for their dinner and they likely did not want him there while they talked anyway. The reason for the old man’s visit would have nothing to do with him.

A stray chicken strutted in through the open door then, pecking at the stone floor and Esca immediately chased it out, taking as much time as he could to round up its companions and lock them securely away for the night. He took care of Uncle Aquila’s cart-horse and trudged wearily back to the house to see whether there was anything but bread to eat.

Marcus and his uncle were already seated at the table and it appeared that the old man had brought some provisions with him for the table held a plate of honey cakes that made Esca’s eyes grow wide with anticipation. He washed his hands and sat down to a steaming bowl of broth, aware of how Uncle Aquila looked from himself to Marcus, as if sensing the tension between them. 

“I have heard some news that may be of interest to you,” he said. Esca looked up and saw that the old man was looking at him, not Marcus. Uncle Aquila rarely addressed him directly, even as a freedman.

“What news?” Esca asked, his eyes darting between the old man and Marcus, who had turned as pale and still as a dead man. 

“News that has reached my ears of a slave, in Calleva.”

Esca wondered whether Uncle Aquila was attempting to insult him by mentioning a slave when Marcus let out an audible breath and shook his head.

“We have no wish to purchase a slave.”

“I’m sure you don’t.” Uncle Aquila popped a piece of bread into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. “However, I think this slave will interest you which is why I came all this way. I have not seen him but I hear tell that he is of a similar age and bears the same markings as you, Esca.”

Esca nearly choked on his broth, coughing to clear his throat as he once again looked from the old man to an astounded Marcus, spoon suspended halfway between his mouth and the table, and back again.

“A Brigantes slave, in Calleva.” Uncle Aquila continued, his face betraying no emotion as he spoke between mouthfuls of broth. “Owned by none other than Tribune Servius Placidus.”


	5. Chapter 5

Esca heard the sound of footsteps behind him as he set the furs down on the floor of the barn where he had already strewn a thick layer of hay.

“A Brigantes,” he said quietly, knowing it was Marcus behind him. “A warrior, painted as I am.”

“I know, Esca. I know. What do you wish to do?”

He spun around to face Marcus, affronted that the man would even have to ask.

“I will see him!” he spat out. “I will not stand by and do nothing while one of my people toils under the yoke of Rome so close by. I will see him and he will take strength from the knowledge that if we two are still alive then others may be also and all is not lost.”

Marcus nodded his head, his expression serious as if he understood Esca’s reasoning but was about to tell him all the ways in which Rome would not allow Esca to intervene.

“This Brigantes,” he said. “He is another man’s slave. You cannot simply confront someone, especially a man like Placidus, and demand to view his property.”

“View his property?” Anger welled up inside Esca but he could not be sure whether it was because of the words themselves or the fact that they came from Marcus’ lips. “This is a man we speak of, Marcus! A living, breathing man, or have you become so consumed by your sudden desire to marry and bring more Romans into this world that you have lost sight of the decent man you used to be? A man who was not so blinkered that he cared only for his own future.”

Marcus clenched his jaw at the outburst and glanced down at his feet but Esca could see how his words had stung. Unbidden and unwanted, the old feelings of protectiveness he had towards his friend leapt to the fore and it took a great effort for him not to say something else to take the sting out of his words.

“That is how Placidus will see it,” Marcus said softly, his eyes still downcast. “Whoever he is, this tribesman of yours belongs to a Roman tribune and you cannot simply ride into Calleva demanding to see him!”

“Then perhaps you can do so, on my behalf.” Ever since old Aquila had mentioned the existence of a Brigantes in Calleva, Esca’s mind had been filled with ideas regarding what he should do and how to go about it but he had not considered involving Marcus, not until now. Marcus looked up at him and they stared at each other in silence for a moment, Esca holding his head high and knowing that the determined jut of his jaw would leave the man in no doubt as to his sincerity.

“It may still not be possible.”

“You can speak to the tribune and ask his permission,” Esca suggested. “What can it matter to him? This man is one of my people and I will see him and I will not wait!”

“Your people were many and those that are left are now spread far and wide. He will likely be a stranger to you.”

“A stranger? Do you not seek out company with other Romans? You are still brothers although you do not know each other at first. This man is Brigantes. He is my brother, no matter who he is.”

Marcus sat heavily on a bale of hay with his head in his hands while Esca waited for him to either agree or refuse to help.

“Very well,” he said finally, looking up at Esca with eyes that betrayed his reluctance. “I will go to Calleva with my uncle when he returns and send word to Placidus that I wish to see him although what end this will achieve I cannot see.” 

“I shall come with you.”

“No. If I am to do this then you must stay and tend the farm. I will send word to you if I am granted a meeting with the tribune but you must prepare yourself for the fact that he is under no obligation to show his slave to me or to tell me anything about the man.”

“You retrieved the golden eagle from the Epidii.” Without wishing it, Esca found his anger ebbing away to be replaced by the respect and pride he had felt for Marcus’ bravery and resilience, now tinged with sadness and the sharp bite of loss. “You are a hero to your people. Even Placidus cannot deny you.”

“He can and I suspect that he will, for he has no liking for me. But I will try, Esca. I promise.”

Marcus turned away to return to the house where his uncle waited and Esca was left alone once more with his thoughts and the uncomfortable battle between anger and loss that waged within him. A promise from Marcus. What reason had he to trust that such a promise would be honoured?

 

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Uncle Aquila complained that the journey back to Calleva would be far too much for his aged and bony backside to endure on two consecutive days and so it was not until the following day that Marcus and his uncle set out in the old man’s cart with Marcus at the reins. He looked back only once to watch as Esca, standing in front of the little farmhouse, grew smaller and smaller as the cart rumbled on but the sight brought back unpleasant memories of the dream he’d had where Esca faded into oblivion and so he set his eyes firmly on the road ahead once more. 

When they had ridden out together from his uncle’s villa to venture north of the wall, Marcus had been filled with a sense of honour and hope. Now, he set forth on a different journey filled with guilt and uncertainty. He had no wish to see Placidus and ask about the man’s slave but he owed Esca after rejecting him and the further they travelled away from the farm, the heavier this debt weighed upon him. Not so long ago, he had travelled this road while thinking fondly of Esca and eagerly anticipating their reunion once his business had been concluded but now he thought only of the chasm of his own making that he had allowed to open up between them, their friendship and the love they had shared in tatters. He was returning to Calleva, the place he had first set eyes upon Esca; the place where they had returned triumphant from Caledonia; the place where rumours had surfaced that threatened to cast him into the gutter and had encouraged him to turn his back on the happiness he had found.

“Are we to spend the entire journey in silence, Marcus?”

“My apologies, uncle,” Marcus said, shaking his head to chase away the sorrow he felt. “My mind is much distracted these days. I was thinking of all the work that has to be done on the farm.”

“So much work that you can leave on a whim to satisfy Esca’s curiosity.” There was no reproach in the old man’s voice despite his words and he reached out to place a hand on Marcus’ forearm. “Does he really mean that much to you?”

“Esca is the truest friend I have ever had.” There was much more he could have said but his uncle would never understand. No good, true Roman could understand. 

“You may have given him his freedom but you are still his patron,” Uncle Aquila continued. “He still has a duty to you, not the other way around. I have lived to see many changes in my lifetime but some rules endure and we must live by them. We must.”

Marcus turned to face his uncle and gave voice to something which had gnawed at him since the three of them had sat at the table and the Brigantes slave had been spoken of.

“Why did you come so quickly with news of this slave, uncle?” he asked. “What purpose lay behind your haste? Did you hope to drive a wedge between myself and Esca?”

The old man stared back at him from beneath his bushy brows, contemplating his answer and never breaking their gaze.

“I was worried about you,” he said eventually. “When you left Calleva on that last occasion I could see that those rumours had wounded you deeply. I knew you would brood on them and I wished to have an excuse to visit. News of that slave gave me cause.”

Marcus laughed, a hollow joyless sound.

“I thought we were never to speak of those rumours again.”

“Yes, I did say that but still, I worry.” Uncle Aquila’s sharp eyes continued to bore into him and the old man sighed deeply. “I will admit however that there was more to my coming than simply wishing to see how you were and that in doing so, I may have done more harm than good. I fear that I acted in too much haste and rather overlooked the consequences.”

Marcus nodded and looked away, listening to his uncle speak as he watched endless fields roll by.

“I did not anticipate that you would feel obliged to travel back to Calleva with me on some mission to uncover this slave on Esca’s behalf. Indeed, I had expected only to bring the news and perhaps encourage Esca to consider his future here. I knew that this would be of interest to him and you have told me before how keenly he still feels the loss of his kin.” Uncle Aquila shifted in his seat and grunted in discomfort. “You know I do not approve of things between the two of you and I had hoped that news of another Brigantes with the same markings as Esca might inspire him to embrace his heritage once more and perhaps you would agree to let him leave to seek out what remains of his kin. I felt that would have been better for you but the fact that you sit next to me now, the embodiment of misery, makes me regret my actions somewhat.”

“I have never asked Esca to stay. He could have left at any time,” Marcus said, although he could not find it in his heart to be angry with his uncle for interfering for the old man had spent many more years than he had living his life according to the will of Rome and could not be expected to see another way at this late stage. “He stayed because it was his wish to do so but I was a fool to think I could live by my own rules and seek happiness with him.”

“Marcus, my boy, I did what I did to try and spare you further pain from this gossip not to cause more upset.”

“The damage had already been done,” Marcus admitted sadly. “You were too late.”

“So it would seem for I did not expect to find such discord in your household. Did you tell Esca of the rumours?”

“No.” 

“Yet something has come between you. I may be old but my eyes are not dim, nor is my mind. You were already both of you hurt and angry when I arrived. You I can understand, Marcus but what has happened to make Esca so unhappy? What have you done?”

“Rome expects,” Marcus muttered, a sliver of ice piercing his heart. “And I have allowed Rome to guide my hand.” 

 

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The first message that he sent to Placidus immediately upon his arrival in Calleva brought Marcus a decline in response and no more.

The second message that he sent the following morning, stressing the importance of the matter, brought a further decline but also an explanation that the tribune was too busy seeing to business and perhaps to enquire again at a later date.

His third message brought no offer of a meeting but a promise that, as soon as he was able, Placidus would send word of his availability.

Marcus was restless in his uncle’s villa, wandering the various rooms and the grounds until his leg began to protest at such use after the long, uncomfortable journey in the cart and nights spent tossing and turning in his old bed. Half awake in the depths of the darkness, he had reached out for Esca one night only to feel an emptiness engulf him when he remembered, and that same emptiness returned to him now as he rested his leg by a small gurgling fountain, keeping watch for yet another message from Placidus. Uncle Aquila was nowhere to be seen and left alone with only his thoughts, with the hard work demanded by the farm and the fortifying presence of Lucilia out of reach, doubts began to creep back into Marcus’ mind. He cursed himself for his pride and was dogged by remembrance of the life he and Esca had shared, memories of their plans for the farm and the long lustful nights they had spent together. 

He closed his eyes and, unable to stop himself, he conjured up a vision of Esca, naked, his skin glowing gold in the firelight. He imagined the feel of that skin under his hands, the taste of Esca on his tongue; eyes that watched him like a cat watches a mouse it has trapped before devouring it but instead of lust, Marcus felt nothing but bitterness.

The sound of a horse’s hooves heading towards the villa grew louder and Marcus was relieved to be able to distract himself. He rose to greet the messenger, wondering what excuse Placidus had made up to rebuff him this time but it was no messenger who rode up to the entrance of the villa and his heart lurched uncomfortably.

“Esca!” he gasped. “What are you doing here? Who is looking after the farm?”

Esca jumped down from the unfamiliar horse, dusty and windswept from his ride. A servant appeared as if from nowhere to take the animal and Esca let him, his full attention on Marcus as he strode towards him.

“On the same day you left,” he said, “I went to our neighbour Manlius and asked that he might send two of his freedmen to tend the farm in our absence. I told him it was a matter of such importance that you had already left and could not come to ask him yourself and so he agreed. He loaned me a horse also so I could follow you to Calleva, for none of ours can fly as fast as his.”

“Do you not trust me?” Marcus asked. “I gave you my word I would act on your behalf.” 

“Trust you?” came the sharp reply. Esca stood close in front of Marcus, staring up at him and bristling, his mouth a rigid line in his face. “There was a time I trusted you with my life.” The words lingered in the air between them, the implied accusation that Esca’s trust in him was lost but when Esca spoke again he sounded tired and the furrow between his brows eased. “As soon as all was settled with Manlius’ freedmen, I came. I will not wait on the farm for you to send word. I wish to be here. Is there news?”

Marcus shook his head.

“I have not yet been able to see Placidus.”

“When then?”

“This must be handled correctly, Esca. We must wait for Placidus, there is no other way to go about it.”

Marcus turned to lead them both into the atrium but he did not hear footsteps following and he stopped.

“Why?” Esca asked from behind him, his voice so soft that Marcus almost did not hear.

He turned to meet Esca’s eyes and knew immediately what Esca was asking; not why they must wait but another question he was long overdue in providing an answer to.

“I never set out to cause you pain, Esca,” he began. “You must understand that.”

“Must I?” Once again anger flared bright in those beloved grey eyes but it quickly faded to reveal such hurt that stole the breath from Marcus’ body. “If you have grown tired of me and wish to marry then why did you not say so? I would have stood aside and respected your wife’s place in your affections but we could still have meant much to each other. I was your shield-bearer, Marcus. Why did you simply discard me?”

“Oh, Esca,” Marcus sighed, his heart sinking like a stone dropped into water. “It is true that when I visited Manlius and Lucilia the other day it was because I intend to ask for her hand in the near future but you must believe me when I say that…..” What could he say? What could he say that would possibly make Esca understand? He could say nothing but the truth, for Esca deserved that. “On my last visit to Calleva, I heard people talking about me. About us. They were laughing and talking of shameful things and some would not trade with me. I was ashamed and I made the decision that our……arrangement….it could not continue. I fought hard to restore honour to my father’s name, to my name and I cannot allow that fight to be for nought. If these rumours persist, I shall be disgraced and you also.”

“And you could tell me none of this?” Esca accused.

“I could not let you try to dissuade me from the path I had chosen.” Marcus knew his reasoning was falling on deaf ears but he could not bear to think that Esca thought he had tired of him. “It is for both our benefits that I will marry but I cannot do so and keep you as a lover. You are worth more than that.”

“Then take your wife and have your children. When you gave me my freedom, I stayed with you because in my heart I knew that I loved you but I am no longer sure you are deserving of my love.”

“Esca,” he began but Esca was walking past him into the late afternoon shadows of the villa, leaving Marcus staring disconsolately after him and finally seeing himself for the fool he was.

 

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The messenger saluted, a different man from the one who had come earlier to deliver Placidus’ rejections.

“I bring word from Tribune Servius Placidus to Marcus Flavius Aquila.”

Still standing by the entrance where Esca had left him, Marcus had met the messenger himself, shooing Stephanos away when the old man came scurrying out to greet the visitor.

“I am Aquila,” he said. “What message from the tribune?”

“He requests the pleasure of your company at midday tomorrow, if it is convenient to you. He regrets that he is too busy to call upon you himself.”

Without hesitation Marcus accepted the offer and went inside to find Esca and tell him.


	6. Chapter 6

Placidus dismissed the messenger and smiled to himself, for his plan was coming together just as he had hoped. He had known the purpose behind the numerous requests to see him as soon as Aquila’s first message had been received. Indeed, Placidus had counted on the man’s devotion to his freedman when he had let it be known around Calleva of the new Brigantes slave in his possession. Esca would immediately want to see one of his own and Aquila would not deny him. Placidus had been sure that once news of the slave reached Aquila the man would feel impelled to act without delay, just as he had when he decided on a whim to go searching for the lost eagle. Fortuna had been with Aquila on that occasion and the goddess had favoured him greatly but it was to be hoped that he had used up all his luck on that particular mission. This time it appeared to be Placidus who had Fortuna’s favour - firstly, in the recent rumours that had been circulating about the full extent of Aquila’s intimate involvement with his freedman, rumours which Placidus had gleefully ensured were passed on to as many of Calleva’s citizens as possible; secondly, in this slave he had managed to find and purchase. It had been a simple enough plan to concoct – it was as if the Gods had deliberately laid an opportunity for mischief at his feet. 

He poured out some watered wine and toasted his ingenuity as he thought of the plan he had set in motion. Marcus Aquila and this Esca who had been his slave, they had humiliated him and this was to be his revenge. He knew many influential people and it had simply been a case of informing them of his specific requirements and sending scouts around the country, looking for a Brigantes slave. Not just any Brigantes, of course. He had to be the right age, with the right markings and he had to be one of the spears of Cunoval for surely Esca could not be the only one to have survived. Any such man would be a pawn in Placidus’ plan to annoy, irritate and generally cause trouble for Aquila and his freedman. Esca, son of the slain chieftain of the Brigantes, would surely not be so loyal to his Roman patron if one of his own kind was set in front of him. Placidus was no fool and he knew well enough the depth of the pride that lurked within the breasts of these native people. Yes, another Brigantes would surely bring strife and discord to their charmed lives! The anticipation had brought him nothing short of joy while his search had been underway and finally his efforts had brought him what he’d been looking for.

Yet when he had found his prey and made his purchase, the outcome had been better than he could ever have imagined. The slave had been brought before him and as soon as he had mentioned Esca, son of Cunoval, the slave’s eyes had lit up and Placidus had known that he had an extra, unexpected bow in his quiver. He knew that look; the eagerness, the warmth, the hope where before there had been none. Esca was more to this slave than merely the son of his slain chieftain. 

“You know this man?” Placidus had asked, already knowing the answer but hardly daring to believe it. “You may speak freely.”

The slave had cast an unsure glance at him, puzzled at his new master’s offer and more than likely wondering if it was just a ruse to earn him a ferocious beating for insolence. He had overcome that fear quickly however, the lure of Aquila’s freedman too much for him to ignore.

“He would have become our chieftain one day, had the Romans not come,” the slave had said. “We were children together.” Placidus had seen how the man’s chest rose and fell quickly beneath his thin, threadbare tunic and he had heard the excitement in his hushed voice. “I never dared to hope that he still lived.”

“Well, live he does. A freedman now, for his master thought very highly of him.” The slave had said nothing so Placidus had continued. “Very highly indeed. Of course, it is acceptable for a Roman to bed his male slaves but quite shameful for both of them if such intimacies continue once the slave is freed. His former master must possess either great charm or great skills in the art of love for Esca to have chosen to stay in his bed once he had been given his freedom.”

The young slave’s head had snapped upwards at that, his eyes aflame yet Placidus had held no desire to chastise him for daring to look at his master in such a way. Such passion only strengthened the notion that his suspicions were correct and his search for a Brigantes to upset Aquila’s domestic arrangements had uncovered not just a tribesman of Esca’s but quite possibly someone to drive a permanent wedge between them.

“Esca would never choose to do such a thing with our enemy,” the slave had stated boldly, colour rising in his cheeks. “You must be mistaken.” As an afterthought, perhaps still wary of a beating for he was already bruised and apparently ill-used by his former master, he quietly added the word Dominus.

“You don’t like Romans?” Placidus had asked calmly. “But we have done so much to bring civilization to this land of yours. You must know that, having spent so long labouring to build our roads. You owe us respect and I must surely be a fair master to have told you of your old friend’s presence nearby and allowed you to speak with me.” 

The slave had clamped his mouth shut and stared back down at his feet but Placidus had been satisfied.

He was still satisfied now as he sipped his wine and anticipated Marcus Aquila’s arrival the following day. He had made the man wait long enough and he was eager to see how the next part of his plan fared. Tomorrow at midday Marcus would come to see him and the cat would be well and truly set amongst the pigeons.

 

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Marcus could preach caution and look worried all he wanted but Esca did his best to ignore his concerns as they made their way to see the tribune. He did not like this Placidus. Esca had known many Romans like him, sly and untrustworthy, making trouble because it pleased them to do so and it bothered him that this as yet unknown Brigantes was beholden to such a man.

When they reached their destination they were greeted by a sentry and led to where Placidus was idly sifting through a pile of scrolls and wax tablets that littered the desk before him. 

“Let me speak with him,” Marcus whispered. “Please,” he added, the worried frown he had worn all that morning and the evening before deepening.

Esca regarded him with as much annoyance as he could muster but he nodded his head in agreement anyway. He knew Marcus was right when he said they had to be cautious but still it vexed him. His freedom had been returned to him but he did not like the invisible chains that still held him back. He was free and yet he must conform to the laws and whims of a people who were not his own. A Roman had dictated that he had ownership over another Brigantes and therefore this Roman’s wishes must be met while Esca could not demand what he wanted. He wanted to see this slave, talk to him in their own language and once more be granted a glimpse of the past that was lost to him.

“Ah, Aquila! Welcome.” It seemed that Placidus had finally found the time to acknowledge them although he ignored Esca and spoke only to Marcus. “And I see you brought your freedman with you. The two of you truly are as inseparable as I have heard.” 

The implication of his words was unmistakable despite the smile on his face and Esca felt Marcus tense beside him. 

“I am most grateful you could find the time to see me,” Marcus said, his voice strained as he nodded his head in greeting to the tribune. Esca made no such gesture but merely took a deep breath to steady the agitation that churned in his stomach as he silently watched the two Romans and listened to their words.

“Your message implied that the matter was urgent,” Placidus declared, “and of course, I am glad to be of assistance. May I offer you some refreshment?”

Marcus declined on their behalf, which annoyed Esca as he was thirsty but still he stayed silent and waited for Marcus to put forward their request. He would not be fooled by the tribune’s pretence of benevolence for the man was a snake.

“I know you are busy with the business of the legion and I have no wish to take up more of your time than necessary.”

“Then speak up and tell me what service I can be of to you.” Placidus made no offer to allow them to sit on one of the stone benches that had been placed against the walls of the sparsely furnished room. “I am at your disposal.” Another oily smile, and Esca wanted to wipe it off his face with his fists.

Marcus cleared his throat. “I…..we have discovered that you own a slave, a Brigantes.”

“Yes, he is a recent purchase and I have not yet had the opportunity to decide what to do with him. I expect I shall send him to the villa my family are having constructed near Londinium. He will make a good worker.”

“As you may be aware, Esca is also Brigantes.”

“I am aware of that,” Placidus agreed. “It is a happy coincidence, is it not? I had no idea when I purchased him that he was of the same tribe as your sla…...your freedman but I believe he did mention it when I asked him his background and then there are the markings that he bears, inked onto his skin. They almost look identical to those I remember Esca being in possession of.”

That had been no innocent slip of his tongue, Esca thought and he bristled at the knowledge that he would always be a slave in the eyes of this arrogant shit! Impatience and irritation gnawed at him and he had to bite his tongue to stop himself from demanding that Marcus and the tribune stop with all this irrelevant, petty chatter and get to the point; to let him see this man the tribune kept in slavery. He shot a scowl at Marcus to show his displeasure.

“I understand that this this will seem a strange request and I hope you do not take offence but….” Marcus hesitated, shifting uncomfortably on his feet and Esca was suddenly angry that Placidus would keep him standing when he had full knowledge of the man’s old injury. “I would like to see him,” Marcus continued,” and I would appeal to you to allow Esca to speak with him.”

Placidus looked directly at Esca for the first time since they had arrived but he continued to address Marcus.

“A strange request indeed,” he said. “I had not expected that this would be your urgent matter.”

“Will you allow us to see him?”

“Hmmm.” The tribune seemed to mull the idea over in his head and Esca’s impatience grew until he was almost bursting from the frustration. It was a simple request, a request that would cause no hardship to Placidus. Whatever could the man have to think about?

After a ridiculously long time where Placidus stroked his chin and Marcus shifted on his feet and Esca despaired of both of these fools, Placidus raised his hand to beckon forward a man in a soldier’s uniform who stood just inside the doorway. Another minion tasked to serve the tribune, of that Esca had no doubt.

“Bring the Brigantes here and do not delay,” he said. “My friends wish to see him and I have no wish to deny them.” 

Placidus smiled at Marcus again and Esca’s agitation slowly began to recede as they waited. He would have preferred a more direct approach rather than all the preamble but Marcus had made it seem as if there would be little chance of success and yet here they were, finally waiting for this unknown Brigantes to be presented to them. It would not do to trust Placidus completely but it appeared there was a tiny spark of decency in the man after all.

“If anyone else had asked such a thing I should have denied them without hesitation,” Placidus remarked. “But I consider you a true Roman and a friend, Aquila and I do not see any harm coming from granting your request.”

“I am in your debt,” Marcus murmured. 

Esca had had enough of watching this exchange and he turned his attention to what he would say to his tribesman. He had slept fitfully the night before, his head full of things to say and questions to ask but now he could barely think of a single thing! He did not have long to wait however before the soldier returned, the slave trailing behind him, his head bowed as Esca had been forced to bow his head during his own slavery. That was, until he had come to serve Marcus. Marcus had never forced him to bow his head or show subservience. Marcus had never disciplined him for breaking the rules. Marcus had always treated him fairly. A now familiar stab of pain over recent events pierced Esca’s heart and he cast a quick glance across to where Marcus stood beside him before turning his eyes back to the slave.

The man raised his head and Esca found he could no longer breathe, all thoughts of Marcus banished from his mind for the moment. Surely his eyes were deceiving him for this could not be! Such a familiar face, such a familiar form, beloved still despite the years that had passed since Esca’s eyes had last looked upon him. Friend, lover, brother in arms, a ghost risen from death, proof once more that the dead can live.

The only man he had ever truly loved before Marcus.

Trenus.


	7. Chapter 7

Marcus quickly caught Esca’s arm as he took a step forward towards the slave and held him back. It would not do to upset Placidus when the man had allowed them to see his slave even if he had used the meeting as an excuse to goad Marcus with his thinly veiled insult about the two of them being inseparable. Esca turned towards him sharply but where Marcus had expected a scowl or even an angry word or two, the expression on Esca’s face took him by surprise. Esca looked stricken and it took a moment for Marcus to understand why.

“He is known to you?” he asked but Esca was speechless as he turned his gaze back to the slave who was now staring incredulously back at him.

“What a happy reunion,” Placidus said and when Marcus glanced across at him, he saw behind the smile on the tribune’s face. It was not a smile of kindness or care but a satisfied smirk as if he had planned this very moment for his own amusement. “Your freedman may embrace my slave if it pleases him.”

Marcus could not hold onto Esca as the smaller man surged forward and threw his arms around the slave who embraced him in return. His eyes steadfastly refused to leave them both as they clung to each other and his heart lurched at the sight before him. Unexpected passion rose within Marcus and he yearned to hold Esca in his arms again and breathe in his scent, to kiss him and strip away his clothing, to rut against him and find release. Concerned that his body might physically betray him, Marcus tried to focus his attention on something else and noticed that Placidus was watching him closely, still smirking.

“Take the slave away,” Placidus instructed the soldier at the doorway. “That is enough.”

“No!” Esca cried out, his arms still locked firmly around the slave whose eyes flew wildly between Placidus and Marcus, unable to comprehend the situation. “Give us more time. Let me speak with him.”

“I have allowed you to see him, as I promised,” Placidus said, “but I cannot have the two of you conspiring together in your own tongue while your patron and I stand here oblivious to your plotting.” He laughed. “He is my slave, after all. Now, I think our business is concluded and I am very busy. I am pleased I could be of service to you Aquila and I bid you a good day.”

They had clearly been dismissed. Esca and the slave tried to hold on to each other, babbling words in their own language but the soldier forced them apart and grabbed the slave roughly, dragging him away and eventually out of sight. The sentry who had accompanied them to Placidus when they had first arrived appeared again to escort them out and Marcus had to manhandle a now silent Esca outside into the weak afternoon sun as he tried hard to make sense of things. Esca had never talked much of his life before he was taken in battle and sold into slavery but this Brigantes owned by Placidus had elicited a response in him that Marcus had not anticipated. Could the man be one of his brothers? If he was merely a friend, surely Esca would not have reacted in such a way. He was still as mute as a man whose tongue had been cut out as Marcus took him firmly by the shoulders and tried to shake him back to awareness.

“Esca. Esca!” Grey eyes stared upwards but looked straight through him. “Who was that slave?”

Esca’s mouth worked as if he were trying to speak but the words would not take form. Marcus looked around them, conscious of prying eyes and sharp ears. They could not do this here with the citizens of Calleva passing by and taking notice so he took Esca’s arm and hurried them both back to Uncle Aquila’s villa. 

 

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Esca’s head was spinning with every emotion known to him, all of them clamouring to be heard. He felt nauseous still and had to breathe deeply so he did not spill his guts on the tiled floor as he sat with Marcus in the atrium.

“His name is Trenus,” he said. “I have known him since I was a child barely old enough to stand.”

“He was your friend.”

“He was more to me than a friend.” He met Marcus’ eyes and held his gaze. “When our people rose up and fought the Romans I thought he had died and part of me died with him. I felt his loss as keenly as the loss of my family. I mourned him but I took comfort from knowing that he had fallen in battle, a brave warrior to the end and thus would have passed into the realm of our forefathers as a hero, to walk for all eternity amongst those who had gone before. To see him today and to know that all this time he has been a slave….”

Esca could not finish and he held his head in his hands, steadying himself and willing away the angry tears that threatened to spill from his eyes.

“I am sorry, Esca.”

“Are you?” he accused, rage burning brightly within him. “You have no idea what it is to know that he has suffered as I have when I thought him free of pain and misery.”

“You are upset, of course you are.” 

Marcus’ tone was gentle and kindly but Esca did not want his sympathy and he cut him off before the man could continue.

“Trenus and I,” he said, “we knew we would have to part in order to marry and produce fine, strong sons who would become spears in later life, it was expected of us but unlike you Marcus, he did not simply toss me aside. He did not make promises to me that he did not keep. He was true to me, he loved me as I loved him.”

“If you had to give each other up,” Marcus asked, “can you not then understand why I must leave you and find a wife?”

“You could have told me why! Instead you let me think you had tired of me, that you no longer loved me.” The more he said, the louder Esca’s voice became until he was almost shouting. “Yes, I may have understood if you had explained your reasons when you returned from Calleva that time but you did not. You pushed me away. You mended my broken heart only to shatter it into a thousand pieces once more!” 

Nothing further was said for a while, only the sounds of daily life in the villa filling the silence that shrouded them until Marcus spoke.

“Is it enough that you have seen Trenus and know he is alive?”

“No.” Esca shook his head. “I will not leave him to such a fate, not if I can do anything to put an end to it.”

“What will you do?”

All the way back to the villa, Esca had strived to think of a means by which Trenus could be freed. He knew little of the ways of Roman law regarding the freeing of slaves but he knew enough about men like Placidus to tell him that Trenus would be a slave for the rest of his life if the tribune remained as his master. There was therefore only one solution he could think of.

“You can buy him,” he said to Marcus. “Make the tribune an offer and buy him so he can be freed.”

“That is not how these things are done, Esca.”

“Do it for me, Marcus! If I ever meant anything to you, buy him and give him his freedom. Please.” Esca would beg, he would cry, he would manipulate, he would resort to violence to persuade Marcus to help obtain freedom for Trenus if he had to. “He should not be enslaved.”

“Placidus may not agree to sell him, Esca. Even if he does, to purchase a slave with the sole purpose of freeing him - people will talk at such an action.”

“Who cares if they do! You put too much stock in the opinions of others.” Esca hadn’t thought about the implication of his last words before he spoke them but a shadow passed across Marcus’ eyes and he saw an opportunity to twist the dagger a little more. “It works well enough for Manlius and since his household is of such interest to you, why should you not copy him?”

Marcus hung his head like a child who had been scolded and Esca wondered why the intended sting of his words brought him no pleasure. 

“If I ask Placidus to sell him,” Marcus said, “will I see you smile once more?”

He looked as sorrowful as Esca had ever seen him and suddenly Esca was overcome with fatigue like he had not felt since they were running for their lives in the wilds of the Highlands. He shook his head and rubbed his hands over his face.

“I have seen such strength within you,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper for it was all he could manage. “Why could you not have used that strength to rise above gossip and rules that should not have applied to us?”

Marcus reached out and placed his hand lightly against Esca’s arm. Perhaps it was a gesture of regret or a silent request for reassurance but Esca could offer him no comfort and he pulled gently away. Marcus made no attempt to touch him again.

“If we do not have enough money to purchase Trenus then I shall ask my uncle,” he said. “Perhaps he can also be persuaded to use his influence with the legate to encourage Placidus to sell if the man is unwilling. One way or another Esca, your friend will have his freedom.”

 

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Marcus paced in his chamber long after the rest of the household had retired for the night. He thought about Esca, about everything that he had allowed to happen between them. He thought about the slave, Trenus, and condemned himself for the jealousy he felt at hearing that Esca had loved before. Had he really been so naïve to think that Esca had been an innocent when he had been captured? He had been a man, a warrior, old enough to fight and therefore old enough to love. 

As he had done so often lately, Marcus cursed himself for a fool, for having hoped that Esca had loved only him. When had he become so selfish? Like a child who did not want a toy until someone else tried to take it from him, it had taken the sight of Esca in someone else’s arms to make him fully feel the consequences of his actions. In his heart he dearly wished he could undo all that had been done but no matter how he regarded the current situation, it seemed that such a path was no longer open to him.

Esca wanted his friend’s freedom. If Marcus was to follow his plan to marry then how could he deny Esca this? He owed him. 

If he was to follow his plan. If. 

No, he had to have the courage of his convictions. He would call on Placidus uninvited and force a meeting to discuss the slave. He would do everything in his power to bring about Trenus’ freedom for Esca and then all three of them would return to the farm and Marcus would court Lucilia. Whatever happened thereafter was in the hands of the gods and Marcus prayed that they would be merciful.

 

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“Another visit so soon? I am indeed honoured that a man I have such respect for has seen fit to grace me with his presence once more.” 

The smile on Placidus’ face did not reach his dark eyes and Marcus felt disconcerted by the tribune’s words which sounded false and mocking coming from his mouth.

“I feel that I did not have the opportunity to conclude my business with you yesterday,” he advised, “and I have a proposal for you.”

“A proposal?” Placidus mused. “You have my ear.”

There was nothing to be gained from skirting around the issue so Marcus waded straight in. “Will you sell the slave?”

A sharp bark of something approaching laughter escaped Placidus as his eyes widened and his brows shot up his high forehead.

“You never fail to astound me, my friend,” he said. “First, you come here asking to see a slave that I possess and now you return to ask if I will sell him. You do seem to favour the Brigantes, don’t you. Are you so desperate to have them that you must propose private sales rather than simply attend the auctions like any other man? Tell me Marcus, what is it that draws you to them?”

Marcus ignored the questions.

“We have need of help on the farm,” he replied, saying the first thing that entered his head. “Since your slave is known to Esca already, I thought he would make a most excellent addition to my household.”

“They do make wonderful slaves, don’t they? One feels such a sense of achievement when managing to make them obey orders. It’s like gaining control of a wolf.”

“Will you sell him?” Marcus asked again, forcefully this time. “Yes or no?”

“You have forgotten your manners, Aquila,” Placidus snapped. “This is my property we speak of and you have no right to come here and demand answers from me. Keep a civil tongue in your head or you may inspire me to send him so far away from here that you will never find him again. How would you explain that to your freedman?”

“This has nothing to do with Esca.”

“Do not take me for a fool. He wants his friend and you want to please him. Tell me, are the rumours I hear true or are they just filthy slander?”

“You may draw your own conclusion,” Marcus bit out. “I find that your opinion does not interest me.”

Again, that sly smile spread across Placidus’ face and he chuckled, his anger forgotten. “Perhaps I will sell him,” he said after a moment. “You look surprised.”

Marcus had no doubt that he did as he considered that he had never faced a more unpredictable foe. He did not know Placidus well but surely there must be some ulterior motive to the man’s easy acquiescence.

“I had expected you to decline outright,” he said and he had never spoken truer words.

“How fortunate for you then that I find I do not want the Brigantes after all. Of course I have no wish to sell him for less than I paid but if you are unable to meet the price and effect a private sale then I am sure I can send him to the markets and find a buyer there.”

“Name your price.”

“My, my, you are in a hurry. Have you no wish to inspect him? I may wish to sell him because he is diseased or sickly or otherwise undesirable.”

“Name your price.” Marcus repeated each word slowly and distinctly.

Placidus shrugged his shoulders. “Two thousand and five hundred sesterces.”

Marcus swallowed hard but kept his expression steady so Placidus would not see his discomfort. That was almost all the money he had, everything that he had wanted to keep for the farm, for the future he had planned with Esca. That future was gone, he remembered. What use was that money to him now? If he married Lucilia, she would bring a large dowry with her. Still, he had to haggle a little for he did not want to look as weak and desperate as he felt.

“Fifteen hundred,” he said.

“Do not insult me and provoke my displeasure, Aquila. Remember, I am in possession of something you want. Twenty two hundred.”

“Eighteen hundred,” Marcus offered.

Placidus sighed. “This bores me. I will accept two thousand sesterces for him and not a single sestertius less.”

“Your price is acceptable to me.”

“Splendid. It is fortunate, is it not, that of all the slaves I could have purchased, I happened upon one who is known to your Esca.” Placidus picked up a scroll from the desk and unrolled it. “In another coincidence – surely the gods must have been guiding my hand – I have already had the magistrate draw up a document detailing the terms of the slave’s sale. All it requires is the mark of his new master.”

Marcus had faced the Seal people, he had faced the Dumnonii at Isca Dumnoniorum but here with Placidus, he felt like a fly caught in a spider’s web. The man had meant for this to happen. He had known somehow of Esca’s link to Trenus and he had planned this, knowing that Esca and therefore Marcus himself would come calling. He had even anticipated their offer to purchase. The man truly would make a politician to rival any that could be found in the Senate in Rome!

“You knew I’d come,” Marcus said, struggling to keep control of his anger.

“I counted on it.”

“What is your game?” Marcus asked, standing up to his full height, instinctively deploying the stance of a soldier facing down an enemy.

“Game? There is no game.” Placidus looked shocked, then grinned at him lasciviously. “Tell me, do you intend to bed both of them?”

“How dare you!”

“Or perhaps Esca will run away with him. You will need to be careful, Marcus lest you find yourself working that farm of yours alone.”

Marcus gritted his teeth and told himself not to rise to the bait, resisting the urge to place his hands around Placidus’ neck and squeeze the life out of him. Placidus waved the document in front of him and Marcus snatched it, reading the single sheet of papyrus with a feeling of foreboding but he had already broken too many promises to Esca. He could not return to the villa and tell Esca that he had failed him once more so he took the document to the desk and made his mark upon it. Placidus approached, standing close beside him and when Marcus looked up his ingratiating smile was gone, replaced by a look of pure scorn. 

“Let us see how loyal your little Brigantes whore is to you now,” Placidus whispered, his voice low and as menacing as he could make it. He took the sheet of papyrus and rolled it into a scroll as the two of them stared hard at each other, Marcus so angry he almost shook with it. “Too late for you to change your mind,” he continued in a louder voice, “unless you want to hear rumours that you do not honour your deals alongside the rumours of your unnatural ways.”

“If the opportunity ever presents itself,” Marcus growled, “I will see you grovel at my feet and beg for mercy.”

Placidus snorted, his nostrils flaring. “I will have your new slave delivered to you at your uncle’s villa as soon as you arrange for the fee to be paid to me. Do enjoy him, Aquila. I shall be interested to hear how things fare for you.”

Marcus could not bear to spend a moment longer in the man’s presence. Despite the twinge in his leg from his muscles being so tense for so long, he stormed out as fast as he could, knocking against the sentry at the doorway and not bothering to stop to apologise.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just managing to post before New Years! Now, off to join the party. Happy 2014 everybody.

The fee had been paid to Placidus quickly, courtesy of a loan from Uncle Aquila that Marcus would repay when he returned to the farm, and now they waited for Trenus to arrive while Esca paced up and down in the outer courtyard of the villa. Marcus could feel the anxiety emanating from him as he watched him pace.

“We should go into Calleva and confront him.”

“Placidus will not go back on our agreement,” Marcus reassured. “He has his money and Trenus will be with us before the day is out.”

Esca remained unconvinced however, his distrust of Placidus showing in the tight line of his mouth and the frown that shadowed his eyes. “He should be here already,” he snapped. “There has been more than enough time.”

“Have patience, Esca.” Marcus did not feel patience himself though, his nerves becoming more frayed as the day had drawn on and Trenus had still not been delivered to the villa. What if Placidus had some further scheme afoot where he would make excuses and then use his influence to conceal his duplicity? What then? “We must have faith that the tribune will keep his word.”

“If he does not, I will rip out his tongue with my bare hands and feed it to the nearest dog!”

“And I will help you, be assured of that,” Marcus said, relishing the idea of also gouging out Placidus’s eyes, the man’s words from their last meeting still stinging him whenever he thought of them.

He was ready to escape the chilly early evening air and resume waiting indoors when two soldiers strode into view, a third figure trudging after them. Marcus tensed but Esca had not noticed for he had turned away from the road and was now pulling the heads off Uncle Aquila’s flowers and dropping them onto the ground to stamp on them, still scowling and likely thinking up more ways to punish Placidus.

“Esca,” Marcus announced loudly to get his attention. “He is here.”

Esca’s head snapped around as the soldiers who had brought Trenus approached and bowed to Marcus, one of them stepping forward.

“Marcus Flavius Aquila?” the man asked and Marcus nodded. “Tribune Servius Placidus sends his regards to his esteemed friend and hopes that your new slave will prove a worthy acquisition.”

The other soldier gave Trenus a firm shove forwards then both of them bowed once more and were gone, leaving the three young men staring at each other. Marcus took a deep breath and addressed Trenus with his head held high and his voice steady.

“I am Marcus Flavius Aquila and I have not arranged your purchase in order to continue your enslavement. Your freedom will be yours as soon as it can be arranged,” he said, with as much authority as if he were once more a centurion addressing his men. “You are welcome here.”

He avoided looking across to where Esca stood but he knew Esca was watching him and he wondered if the man was holding back from embracing his friend until they were alone. Marcus regarded Trenus. He was filthy; Placidus had apparently drawn the line at making him presentable before dispatching him. He was dressed in the same rags that he had worn when they had first seen him and what flesh could be seen on his arms and around his neck was covered in bruises both old and new. 

“Are you well?” Marcus asked him, genuinely concerned. “Do you require the services of the medicus?”

Trenus eyed him suspiciously but Esca went to his side and laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder, speaking a few words to him in their own tongue. 

“I am well,” Trenus replied then, his Latin well-formed but accented as Esca’s still was. “These are only bruises and they will heal.”

“Very well. No doubt you would like to clean yourself,” Marcus told him. “I believe Stephanos has already laid out some fresh clothing in the bath-house for you.” He caught Esca’s eye and struggled to keep a neutral expression on his face. Trenus was really here, a man who could quite possibly rekindle Esca’s love and Marcus himself had arranged for the two of them to be together. “Esca will show you the way,” he continued. “The two of you must have much to talk about.”

Trenus nodded his head in thanks, still staring at Marcus warily then he looked away to smile at Esca and followed him in the direction of the tiny bathhouse. Marcus turned to go indoors and was surprised to see his uncle appearing from the dark interior of the villa to stand in the entranceway. 

“He is here then.”

Marcus nodded his head. “I am grateful to you for arranging payment,” he said despite having thanked the old man profusely on several occasions already. “I did not wish to waste time by returning home to fetch my own funds.”

“I have no doubt that I am a fool for doing so,” Uncle Aquila said, rolling his eyes and sighing, “but I suspect I still have a soft spot for my favourite nephew, no matter our differences.”

“I am your only nephew, uncle,” Marcus pointed out, a wry chuckle escaping his lips.

“I’m hoping he understands the rules of this house, this slave or freedman or whatever he is. Rules such as that which states I have no wish to be butchered in my bed.”

“There will be no trouble. Esca will see to that.”

“Where are they off to?” the old man asked, indicating the two figures who were about to disappear from view around a corner.

“Trenus needed to bathe and Esca has gone with him,” Marcus advised. “He is still a slave for now but I do not wish for him to be treated as such. I will arrange for his manumission as soon as is possible and then we shall be gone from here.”

“Peace and quiet at last,” Uncle Aquila said but he was smiling fondly, at least until he looked beyond where Marcus stood, out into the courtyard and his face fell. “What happened to my flowers?”

 

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“Is this where you live?” Trenus asked, looking around at the villa and what could be seen of its grounds as they made their way to the baths.

“No,” Esca told him. “Marcus and I live on a farm some distance from here. This villa belongs to his uncle. I was a slave here before Marcus freed me but the story of my freedom is something for another time.” 

“I saw a lake close by. Are we not to bathe there?”

“No. There is a stone-built pool for bathing. With hot water.”

“Hot water?”

“There is not much about the Roman way of living that is to be admired,” Esca laughed, “but bathing in hot water is very pleasing.” 

A pile of fresh clothing did indeed sit upon a bench in the bath-house as Marcus had promised. Alongside the pile lay a plate of bread and a pitcher of water which may have been provided on Marcus’s orders but were more likely a gesture from Stephanos who had been kind to Esca when he had first arrived at the villa and who often provided little favours for others that old Aquila turned a blind eye to.

“Are you hungry?” Esca asked.

“Always.” They both laughed and Trenus picked up the bread, hardly even bothering to chew a mouthful in his haste to have more. “This is good,” he said when he was finished eating. “I hope they have more.”

“As much as you can eat I should think. The cook bakes several loaves every day.” Esca felt a huge grin spreading across his face, joy bursting within him as he closed the distance between them and they embraced tightly. “Say and do as you wish, in front of Marcus anyway. Best avoid the old man, his uncle. He is not cruel but I am sure that we probably insult his Roman sensibilities.”

It felt good to speak in the old tongue again. It felt good to be in Trenus’s arms again. They pulled apart after a long while and Esca indicated the pool of gently steaming water.

“Come,” he said. “I shall bathe with you and it will be like it was when we used to go to the pool with the waterfall.”

“A place I have thought of many times over the last few years to ward off despair.”

Trenus grinned and stripped off his clothes, revealing his back as he stepped gingerly into the water. Mottled lines striped his skin – he had been flogged not too long ago, whether at the hands of Placidus or his previous master Esca had no intention of asking. The sight made his blood boil but he had no wish to dwell on such things at this happy time. Trenus was safe now and no Roman would ever lay a hand on him again.

Esca pulled off his tunic and braccae and climbed into the pool, showing Trenus the ledge where they could sit side by side, half-submerged in the soothing warmth.

“You were right,” Trenus murmured. “This is pleasant.” He sluiced water over himself and rubbed away some of the grime, the blue-inked markings around his upper arm standing out clearly against his skin. “I can hardly believe I am here with you.”

He reached out to cup one side of Esca’s face with his hand and Esca covered it with his own, slowly stroking his fingers.

“I saw you fall,” he said softly. “All this time I thought you were dead.”

Trenus leaned towards him until their foreheads touched, closing his eyes and letting out a long sigh. 

“I remember nothing before I awoke, covered by the bodies of our fallen kin. When darkness fell, I crawled away to try and tend to my wounds but a Roman patrol found me and I was too weak to run from them. They sold me as a slave and I was put to work on farms and then building their roads. I never lived in such a place as this.”

“I served many Romans until I was sent to fight as a gladiator,” Esca told him. “It was Marcus who saved me from death in the arena.”

“This Marcus,” Trenus asked. “You were his slave?”

“I was. He was the last Roman to claim ownership of me.”

Trenus sat upright, his green eyes regarding Esca curiously. “How is it that you are a free man once more but you remain with him?”

Esca drew in a sharp breath. He had known that Trenus would ask such a thing, and more, and that it would be difficult to say the words. Rome had been their enemy and Trenus as yet had no reason to see Romans as anything other than murderous invaders and slavers. 

“Do not judge me too harshly,” he appealed for he would not lie. “Marcus and I have had many adventures which I will tell you of soon enough but you must know that he treated me like a friend, not a slave and in time we did truly become friends.”

“The last Roman who called himself my master, Placidus, said that you share his bed even though you are not compelled to through the binds of slavery.”

“I did but I do so no longer. Perhaps that is yet another story, for another day,” he added sadly.

“You care for him.”

Esca looked into Trenus’ eyes and struggled to find the right words to explain what Marcus was to him.

“By the time I had my freedom, I cared for him greatly, yes. He never used me when I was a slave. It was my choice to lie with him and I do not regret it. Recently things have changed between us though. He has chosen to marry and he has turned his attention to another.”

“He is a fool if he had your love and then spurned you.”

Trenus stood and waded out to the middle of the tiny pool and Esca followed, moving to stand in front of him.

“A fool is one word for him,” he said, “but he is a good man. He is capable of such bravery and inner strength that he would have made a spear to rival any of our own people. He purchased you to give you your freedom because I asked him to even though he was under no obligation to do so. He could have denied me and left me to find my own way to you.”

“So it was true what he said. I am to be free?”

“Yes.” Esca reached out and entwined his fingers with Trenus’s, squeezing firmly and feeling the answering pressure.

“I never forgot you,” Trenus whispered.

“Nor I you.” Esca stood on the very tips of his toes and tilted his head slightly as Trenus stooped towards him. Their lips brushed lightly together then he buried his face against Trenus’s shoulder, remembering how it had vexed him in their youth that his friend was taller than he was. He did not care now. They clung to each other in the water, their heated bodies pressed close together then Esca released himself from the embrace, fetched a wash-cloth and slowly, gently began to wash the remaining dirt from Trenus’s skin.

 

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They dressed and ate together in the kitchens, foregoing eating with Marcus and his uncle in the triclinium for Trenus was not yet a freedman and although Marcus would not have objected, Esca did not want to incur his uncle’s wrath. Kindly old Stephanos fussed around them, ensuring that they were both well fed with extra helpings of fish and then honey cakes that elicited hums of delight from Trenus. When they had eaten their fill, Trenus yawned loudly.

“I should not have eaten so much,” he said. “I can barely keep my eyes open.”

Esca grinned at him. “If you wish to sleep, then do so. You are no longer beholden to any Roman who dares to call himself your master.”

He led Trenus from the kitchen to the tiny room where they would sleep, where another pallet had been placed next to his own for Esca did not wish to let his friend out of his sight, not even at night. 

“Promise me once more that this is not a dream,” Trenus mumbled as he yawned again and dropped down onto one of the pallets. “That I will not wake tomorrow and find you gone.”

“I promise,” Esca assured him, “and I will continue to promise until you truly believe it.” A slight chill in the air made him shiver. “Stay here and I shall return shortly.”

He fetched extra blankets then stopped for a moment outside old Aquila’s study, watching unseen from the shadows as a melancholy Marcus sat alone, staring into the flames of a brazier. Esca sighed deeply. As he watched Marcus his poor heart did not know which way to turn. He felt such joy that Trenus had been returned to him but what of Marcus? Part of him still wanted so much to hurt Marcus for what he had done but his heart would not allow him to linger on anger for long before pain and disappointment gripped him anew. He missed the feel of that warm, solid body next to him at night. He missed the feel of Marcus’s hands on his skin and the soft, exhilarating touch of his lips. Perhaps if Marcus had regretted his actions sooner, as Esca suspected he now did, he could have found it in his heart to forgive him and they could have repaired their broken relationship but the presence of Trenus changed everything. 

Hugging the blankets tightly to his chest, Esca made his way back to the little sleeping chamber.

“Trenus?” he enquired softly from the doorway but Trenus could no longer hear him, able to sleep soundly in the knowledge that he was safe and warm at last.

Esca knelt beside the pallet and covered his friend with the blankets he had brought. He stroked his fingers through the man’s unruly mop of hair and it occurred to him how similar Trenus and Marcus were; both taller and broader then he was, dark-haired and green eyed. Smiling sadly to himself Esca crawled onto the pallet beside Trenus and huddled against him, breathing in his scent until he too fell asleep.


	9. Chapter 9

This must be what a condemned man feels like travelling to his execution, Marcus thought to himself with every mile that passed. The journey back to the farm reminded him too much of the time he had travelled this road after first hearing the rumours in Calleva, each hour bringing with it the prospect of new hardships that must be faced; a marriage he did not want but would endure because it was his duty to do so. Esca, within reach but no longer his to touch. And Trenus looming large, his influence as yet unknown.

Marcus had not spoken much to Trenus except for the day of his manumission and the man remained wary of him. They were uncomfortable in each other’s presence and Marcus found himself haunted day and night by the heritage that Trenus shared with Esca. They two were the same while Marcus and Esca would always be from different worlds, perhaps too different. 

Had legal matters been left to run at their own pace they could have found themselves idling as guests of Uncle Aquila for some time however the local magistrate had bowed to a little pressure - one more thing for Marcus to be indebted to his uncle for, although the twinkle in the old man’s eye gave rise to some suspicion of coercion - and had agreed for the ceremony to be performed without much delay.

“Now you are a freedman, it is expected for you to retain some obligation to me as my client,” Marcus had told Trenus afterwards when the man had stood looking up to the sky, smiling to himself as if he saw the world through new eyes. Or perhaps old eyes, newly restored.

“Esca has explained this to me,” had come the reply. “I understand.”

“Shelter and sustenance will be yours at the farm and you are free to speak your mind on all matters.”

“You have my thanks.”

“If you do not wish to stay however,” Marcus had continued, “I will not stand in your way. You are free to leave and make your own way in the world.”

He had thought long and hard over this but Marcus had never intended to be one of those Romans who collected a household full of slaves and freedmen and indeed, once he had met Esca all he had ever wanted was for the two of them to live together in peace. Trenus would be a welcome addition to the farm in terms of labour, for he was sturdy and well-muscled - built like Marcus himself but without the lameness - but Marcus was not sure he could look upon Trenus every day, aware that the man had known Esca in the same way Marcus had. No, it would be Trenus’s choice whether to stay or go and Marcus would live with the consequences. 

“You would allow me to leave?” Trenus had asked then, his eyes narrowing, his mistrust not assuaged by this unexpected offer. “What of Esca? Is he free to leave also?”

Marcus had been sure his heart had stopped beating at that very moment but he had managed to retain his composure. “I would not hold him against his will,” he had said, and it had been the truth for he could never bring himself to make Esca stay against his will. It would be too much like imposing a new form of slavery upon him.

“I am keen to see this farm of yours for Esca seems quite proud of it,” Trenus had said after yet another long, uncomfortable silence, “so I will come with you for now. More than that I cannot say.” He had offered Marcus a forced smile although his eyes were still guarded. “Esca says that you are a good man.”

“He told you that?” Marcus had been genuinely surprised. “I was not aware that he held me in high regard any longer.”

“Some things can never be completely lost, no matter what action is taken to stamp them out.”

“And what is your own opinion, Trenus? Do you think me a good man?” 

“I am grateful to you for my freedom but one good deed does not make a good man. I have never met a Roman like you but Esca has always been wise,” Trenus had said. “If he says that you are a good man, I have no reason to doubt him and that is enough for now. Once I have formed an opinion of my own, I will let you know.”

Marcus had not talked with him again after that, his time taken up with arranging the journey back to the farm and hours spent alone in his room, praying to the gods for guidance and for their grace while Trenus avoided him as much as possible. 

Now they were on their way. They had left Calleva as soon as the cock crowed that morning and had made good time, Esca riding the horse he had borrowed from Manlius, Trenus perched behind him. Marcus rode in the hired cart, the man who would return the cart to Calleva snoring in the back with the extra furs and pallet needed for Trenus. Marcus was happy to let the man sleep for his conversational skills were severely limited and frequently punctuated with loud belches, while his stink suggested that he normally slept in a pig sty and was unacquainted with the cleansing properties of water.

Esca and Trenus rode a little way ahead, talking in their own language so Marcus would not have been able to understand even if he could hear them properly above the clip-clop of horses’ hooves and the rumble of the cartwheels. He watched them, tormented by the image of the two of them so close together and his own notions of what they were saying. At one point Trenus had laughed out loud, Esca joining in and the blood in Marcus’s veins turned to ice. Were they laughing at him? Was Esca sharing stories of his shortcomings? Were they ridiculing the Roman who freed slaves and then told them to speak their mind and asked their opinion of him?

Marcus wondered whether Trenus was in the process of forming that opinion now as Esca talked and laughed with him and they drew nearer the farm with every thunderous heartbeat.

 

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Their earlier laughter as they talked of shared memories and childhood scrapes had given way to more serious matters and finally Esca had recounted in full the story of his journey north of the wall, his reluctant respect for Marcus which grew into love and their final stand together against the Epidii. For this last part Esca was glad that Trenus rode behind him and he did not have to look at his friend, for it would have been too difficult for one proud Brigantes to face another and admit such things.

“All that to recover a golden eagle and restore the good name of a Roman,” Trenus said when Esca had finished his tale. “I never thought to hear you speak of a Roman in such a way,” he added, “nor to fight alongside him with a Roman sword in your hand.”

“Nor did I,” Esca admitted. “I do not expect you to understand.”

“All I have known at the hands of Romans is cruelty and punishment. Food not fit for dogs, hard labour that saw others die of exhaustion around me, beatings for no other reason than it pleased them to show their contempt for those whose lands they took. Yet you found one who treated you like a friend, not a slave and you saw beyond the Roman to the man.”

“Do you think less of me for it?”

Trenus shifted behind Esca and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“No,” he said softly. “You would not have given your heart to him had you not thought him deserving of it but I cannot hope to ever be his friend. I have no wish to be. I am grateful to him but one man cannot soothe in only a few days the pain caused by many men over years. I would also happily lay a curse upon him for proving unworthy of your loyalty, whatever his reasoning.”

Esca had to laugh a little at that. “You have always defended me, even when we were children.”

“And I shall always do so. We have endured much though, you and I and we are very different men from the ones who knew each other before. The life we knew is gone and we must make the most of what is laid before us now.” The hand on Esca’s shoulder squeezed lightly. “What we were to each other in the past can never be taken away from us and what we will be to each other in the future, we cannot know.” His voice trailed off but Esca waited for him to speak again, for he knew there was more to come. “Marcus told me that I am free to leave if I so wish. You also.”

“He has said nothing to me.”

“I will see this farm of yours, Esca but I can make no promise that I will stay or for how long. I do not think it is in my heart to remain in the household of a Roman.”

Esca nodded his head slowly.

“I feel pity for Marcus,” he said firmly, unwilling to dwell upon talk of leaving. “He deserved to find happiness on his own terms but the expectations of others have always weighed heavily on him. Rome says he should marry, so he does as Rome demands.”

“It would have been expected of us also,” Trenus reminded him. “We would have found wives and if the gods saw fit to bless us, we would have begotten sons to be proud of. You would have been chieftain one day, after all.”

“It was different for us,” Esca declared, aware of the hard edge that had crept into his voice. “I always knew that you and I would have to part but Marcus made promises to me and he did not keep them. These Romans live by such rigid rules. Their name is everything to them, Marcus especially. That was why we risked our lives north of the wall.” He took a deep breath to stop his voice from shaking. “There were rumours, about Marcus and I, rumours that ridiculed him and he felt great shame. He felt that shame more keenly than he felt love for me and so he retreated from me, withheld his affection and did not tell me why. I would have respected his wish to marry if it meant so much to him but he should not have betrayed my trust.”

“You defend him in one breath and then condemn him in the very next.”

Esca sighed. “It seems that I do.” He turned to look back, past Trenus to where Marcus followed them in the cart. “He has always been able to inspire conflicting emotions in me. I feel such anger towards him but also such sorrow and I am not sure which I feel more. The gods were merciful to me though and they restored you to life to cast some light upon my darkness. I owe them thanks.”

“The gods and Marcus,” Trenus pointed out. “Whether we like it or not, we both owe him much.”

Esca did not reply but he knew it was the truth. Marcus had done everything he had asked and had sought no thanks in return. Without Marcus, he would be dead and Trenus would still be a slave. Esca took another look back at the cart then resumed looking straight ahead as they continued on, he and Trenus riding together on one horse as they had so often done in their youth, before they became men and the Romans came.

“There!” he called out at last, familiar fields rolling out to the horizon, the stream winding between them and the little farmhouse visible in the distance. “The farm. We are home.”

 

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Manlius’s freedmen had taken good care of the farm in their absence and Marcus thanked them for their efforts, offering them each some coins for their trouble. He was about to hand them the reins of their patron’s horse, the one Esca had borrowed to come to Calleva, when it occurred to him that the return of the horse would make a good excuse to see Lucilia so he sent them on their way with word that he would come later himself.

While Esca showed Trenus the farm and introduced him to old Agilis and the others in the stable, Marcus brushed off the dirt of the road and made himself presentable then mounted Manlius’s tired and heavily sweating horse and let him slowly wander towards home.

“Not long now, my friend,” Marcus told him, patting the beast’s neck as they ambled along. “I shall tell them you bore two riders all the way from Calleva and that you deserve twice the amount of food for at least the next five days.”

As if he understood, the horse nodded his head and whinnied in delight.

When they reached Manlius’s villa it was Lucilia who greeted them, her hair a little wild, her cheeks ruddier than usual and her plain clothing slightly muddied around the hem from where she had obviously been working outside. 

“Father is unwell, sadly,” she said as a groom took the horse and Marcus followed her indoors. “If it were up to him he would be receiving you in his sick-bed but he is under strict instructions to rest.”

“From the medicus?” Marcus asked, concerned.

“From me!” Lucilia stopped, her hands on her hips and a stern look on her face but she soon broke into a warm smile. “You will stay awhile, won’t you?”

“Not for long as I must return to the farm but I had your horse to return and I was eager to see you. I would have called upon you sooner had I not been called to Calleva on urgent business.” He made sure to emphasize that it was Lucilia who was the real purpose of his visit.

“I am flattered,” she said. Her smile faltered a little and she averted her eyes momentarily as Marcus supposed was the custom for any modest young woman when a man showed interest. “I trust all is now well.”

“I achieved the purpose of my business, yes,” he told her. “In addition, I find I am now patron to a freedman by name of Trenus.”

“It is to be hoped that he is a happy addition to your household,” Lucilia said kindly. 

A plump and happily smiling female slave brought wine and water, poured two cups and retreated to stand in the corner, playing chaperone in the absence of Manlius. Lucilia sat and Marcus sat next to her then he reached across and took hold of her hand, contact which she allowed briefly before gently removing her hand from his grasp.

“I am most grateful to your father for the loan of your freedmen to tend the farm in my absence,” he said, unsure of what to do next. ”Please pass on my gratitude to him and also my wishes for his recovery.”

“Thank you. It is always a pleasure to assist you Marcus, you are our friend and neighbour. Some wine?”

“Thank you.” His mouth was dry and he drank deeply. “One day, I hope to plant some vines and try my hand at making wine.”

“A noble use of any land if you ask my father,” Lucilia laughed. “Although I find that crops and grazing land for livestock is much more practical.”

“It is but a thought,” Marcus assured her before ploughing on. “We have spoken much over the past months but I have failed to show you the courtesy of asking after your hopes for the future,” he said. “Would you do me the honour of confiding in me?”

If Lucilia was surprised, she did not let it show. “I wish for the same as any sensible woman should. Contentment, security, to be allowed to work rather than be idle and gaze at myself in a mirror all day.” She considered for a moment. “The prosperity of the farm and the happiness of those who are dear to me. A husband who is worthy of me and perhaps some children to inherit the fruits of our labours.”

Marcus nodded his head and could think of nothing more to say. A wave of nausea rolled over him and he realised that he had not eaten since early that morning, having declined any offers of food during the journey while he had watched Esca and Trenus and dwelt upon the speed with which his once happy life had unravelled.

“Marcus?” Lucilia asked, jolting him out of his reverie. “Are you ailing?”

“Not at all.”

This time it was Lucilia who took Marcus’s hand, watching him with sympathy in her dark eyes.

“You look tired and pale,” she said, “and quite, quite desolate.”

“Do not concern yourself. It is nothing that an undisturbed night’s sleep will not cure.” He did not mention his empty stomach for that would oblige Lucilia to offer him food and Marcus suddenly wanted nothing more than to go back to the farm.

“I have never seen you so distracted and unhappy,” she continued, “despite your efforts to appear otherwise. When you came here first you were such a serious man but over time you became almost carefree. What has happened to change that?”

Marcus tried to think of an adequate excuse but he did not wish to lie to Lucilia. She was caring and good and she did not deserve lies, although he could never tell her the truth.

“Pay me no attention,” he said instead. “I assure you that I am as happy as I have any right to be.”

Lucilia did not appear convinced but she smiled and told of her father’s latest plans for the farm and did not press Marcus any further.

 

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Esca and Trenus had taken it upon themselves to do any chores that remained and they had waited for Marcus to return before eating, the table laid out with three bowls and cups. Marcus washed his hands and face and filled his bowl from the pot over the fire, watching the other two closely and feeling an unwanted tug of jealousy.

“What do you think of the farm?” he asked Trenus as they ate, trying hard to appear friendly but sounding cold and formal nevertheless. “Does it meet with your approval?”

“It is fine land,” Trenus said through a mouthful of slightly stale bread.

It is, Marcus thought. I wish I had never left it, that I had purchased this farm and never ventured beyond its boundaries. I wish it was only Esca and I who lived here, content in each other’s company as we once were. I wish I could undo all that I have done wrong.

“How is Manlius?” Esca cocked his head to one side and regarded Marcus with those clear, grey eyes. “Was your visit productive?”

“He is unwell but nothing to raise concern.” Marcus turned to Trenus. “Manlius is our nearest neighbour,” he added in explanation.

“Esca has mentioned him,” Trenus said. “And his daughter.”

Marcus hesitated in drinking from his cup then he drained it, staring hard at Esca from beneath his knitted brows. Esca held his gaze and did not falter, the look on his face as blank as a wax tablet that had been smoothed down for re-use.

“And what did Esca say about his daughter?”

“That you hope to marry her.” Three pairs of eyes darted around the table, each man looking from one to the other and Marcus could see that Trenus was trying to decide whether to say more, his natural suspicion vying with uncertainty as he tested how far he could push. “And that you have forsaken him to make way for her in your bed.”

Marcus slammed his cup down on the table. “Perhaps if we are all to live together in something approaching harmony, you should not take me too literally when I say you may speak your mind.” He kept his voice steady despite the dull ache that now lurked behind his eyes, too tired to be truly angry but feeling the sting of Trenus’s words nevertheless. “I will not accept disrespect.”

Trenus stared back at him for a moment then bowed his head slightly in apology. “I am sorry.” 

An awkward silence hung in the air as they finished their meal and cleared the table then Trenus excused himself, claiming fatigue and a wish to rise early and be of assistance with whatever work was required. Esca lingered by the fire but Marcus wanted nothing more than to close his eyes and hopefully find solace in a deep and dreamless sleep. He pulled back the curtain that separated the sleeping area from the main room of the little house and noticed that there was only one pallet on the floor, where before there had always been two. He turned to look at Esca.

“I have taken my bedding to the barn and I shall sleep in there with Trenus.” Esca wouldn’t look at him, staring at his feet. “We cannot all three of us sleep in here, there is not enough space and anyhow, I see no reason for me to remain.”

“Do you….are you….” Marcus’s tongue felt too big for his mouth and he struggled to get the words out. “You and Trenus were intimate once. Do you intend to ….?”

Esca frowned, his mouth pulling tight. “We have made no specific agreement, if that is what you mean. Other than that, I cannot say.”

Marcus sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose, the dull ache in his head becoming sharper.

“If you think it best to sleep in the barn,” he said, “then I cannot argue.” 

He did not say the things he wanted to. He did not go down onto his knees and beg Esca’s forgiveness. He did not plead for Esca to come back to the farmhouse and lie beside him, although he was already plagued by thoughts of what comfort Esca and Trenus would take from each other in the barn every night. He heard Esca’s softly spoken ‘good night’ but he did not reply. Marcus knew already that they could not live here, just the three of them together. He could not bear it.

He must marry, devote himself heart and soul to a wife and their offspring and leave the past firmly behind him. He must propose to Lucilia without delay.


	10. Chapter 10

“Good day to you, Marcus.”

It was a business-like greeting, a freedman paying his respects to his patron and nothing more and as he spoke, Esca was reminded of the days when he used to wake in Marcus’s arms and greet him with kisses. That morning he had woken next to Trenus, the two of them nestled together for warmth in the barn and for a moment Esca’s foggy mind had tricked him into assuming it was Marcus beside him. He had pressed closer, not quite fully awake and he had reached out to wrap his arm around the sleeping form, murmuring Marcus’s name before he had opened his eyes and remembered.

Trenus followed Esca into the house now, adding his own greeting. Marcus mumbled a response but his puffy, sleep-deprived eyes did not stray towards either of them and Esca was tempted to reassure him that they had done nothing the night before but bury themselves under their furs and sleep. He did not allow that temptation to make itself heard though and they ate their morning meal in an atmosphere which was no less uncomfortable than it had been the night before.

“Do you have any instructions for us?” Esca asked, aware that he had never asked for instructions before – he had never had to – but hoping that his request would not incur Marcus’s wrath. He had woken today with no stomach for bad feeling.

“Instructions?”

“I thought that perhaps now Trenus is here, it would be best if you let us know what tasks you would prefer us to do each day rather than making assumptions. It will avoid any misunderstanding.”

Marcus sighed and pushed away his food, only partially eaten and Esca noticed Trenus eyeing it, still hungry even after finishing his own. He leaned over slightly to catch Marcus’s attention and when Marcus gave a nod of assent, Esca slid the bowl in front of Trenus who smiled at him gratefully.

“The two of you can see to the animals,” Marcus said, “while I fetch water from the stream and then we can all continue turning over the field for the wheat. The sooner it is done, the sooner we can begin sowing.”

“Have you given any more thought to how many cattle we can purchase?”

“We may have to wait and see how much profit our harvests bring us this year.” Marcus’s tone suggested that he was reluctant to discuss the farm and Esca thought of the plans they had made over the winter just gone for some cattle and maybe sheep to provide their own milk and meat. “I must repay my uncle from our existing funds and I do not want to leave us with nothing.”

“I understand.” 

Trenus was the first to leave the table, eager to be outside but whether it was to escape the lingering air of tension or to be at work Esca was unsure. “I will see how many eggs the chickens have for us and let the horses out into the pasture,” he offered. “It looks like fine weather today for working in the fields.”

Esca agreed and went to follow him but he stopped when Marcus called him back.

“I will be away to see Manlius later today,” he said, “and I expect to be gone until late. He and I have matters of an important nature to discuss so please do not wait for me before having your evening meal.”

Esca nodded. Important matters to discuss, he thought, understanding fully the meaning of those words even without an explicit explanation. A betrothal. A betrayal. By the end of the day the wheels would be set in motion for Marcus’s marriage and their estrangement would almost be complete. So be it, but he would offer no words of congratulations. There was nothing to be gained by doing so and the words would sound false and sorrowful even if he could bring himself to say them.

 

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Manlius must still be confined to his bed for there was neither sight nor sound of him in the villa as Marcus waited in the atrium, nervously shifting from foot to foot, the ruined muscles in his thigh protesting after his day’s work.

“Marcus. So soon.”

He heard footsteps behind him and Lucilia appeared, the slave who had chaperoned their meeting the day before following her and once again taking up a discreet position in the corner.

“Forgive my intrusion,” he said, eager to be about his business before his nerve failed him. “There is something rather serious I would like to speak with your father regarding.” 

“Father was asleep when I looked in on him not so long ago,” Lucilia advised. “Can I be of assistance?”

“I have no doubt you and I shall talk in length afterwards for it does concern you but perhaps I should speak to your father first.”

“How very intriguing.” She seemed unsettled. “Please tell me or I shall be imagining all kinds of horrors.”

“No horrors, I assure you,” Marcus said but he decided that there could be no harm in telling Lucilia of his intentions towards her. He stood as straight as a centurion giving out orders to his cohort and addressed her in a loud, clear voice. “It is my intention to ask his permission…..” 

“Marcus,” she interrupted but his heart was pounding and he stopped any further words by stepping forward and kissing her, crushing his lips against her mouth, hearing the surprised yelp that she let out and the sharp intake of breath from the chaperone.

“You forget yourself!” Lucilia gasped as she pushed herself away from him.

“My apologies.” Marcus was astonished at his own actions. “I have indeed forgotten myself. My eagerness and the significance of the occasion have overcome me. I will speak to your father this very minute before I can disgrace myself further.”

Lucilia stopped him with a firm hand on his arm.

“Please Marcus, wait!” she implored him. “I can guess your purpose in coming here to see father today and I beg you to reconsider.”

Reconsider? Marcus frowned, his mind racing to try and fathom why he should do such a thing. Was there some custom he had failed to honour? He could think of nothing but Lucilia cut into his thoughts, a desperate edge to her voice.

“I know that I am no man’s idea of beauty and I know that one day a marriage of convenience may be my only choice but that day has not yet come. Soon, possibly, but not yet. If you ask father for my hand, he will agree wholeheartedly and we will be betrothed to each other but I beg you to think again. I have no wish to disrespect you by being so blunt but I have always felt that I can speak plainly to you.”

Marcus’s head was spinning. It had never occurred to him that Lucilia would reject him. He was not unattractive after all – he owned his own land, he was still young and, despite his lame leg, not entirely a cripple. He could provide well for a family and Lucilia was no child who had only recently put on her first stola. If she thought he had nothing to offer, what would he do? He knew no other suitable women. He had pinned all his hopes on her.

“Please, speak,” he told her.

“I am right, am I not? You wish us to marry.”

“That was my intention, yes.”

“You see, I still hope to marry for love,” she said gently. “I do think you would be a most kind and dutiful husband and that you would father fine, strong boys and beautiful girls but you do not love me and I do not love you. Perhaps in time the respect we feel for each other would blossom into a deeper understanding but it would never quite be enough, for I suspect that you are not a man to be truly satisfied with that and I know with all my heart that I am not such a woman. Any union between us would harness the spirit that I suspect lies within you as much as I and a man as fine as yourself deserves better.”

Marcus looked into her beseeching eyes, staring at her open-mouthed as his plans crumbled around him, their flimsy protection falling away at the first blow and leaving him exposed. 

“A man as fine as I am?” he said finally, slumping down to sit on a couch and holding his head in his hands. He had been a coward, too easily-swayed from his heart’s true desire by pride and shame. “If only you knew.”

“Oh Marcus.” Lucilia sat beside him. “You told me yesterday that all was well with you but you spoke falsely! Contentment has deserted you of late and all of a sudden you show an interest in me that you never had before! We have met many times and indulged in lengthy and rather fervent discussions on all manner of subjects and not once have I ever seen the slightest spark of desire for me in your eyes. Tell me, I beg of you, what is all this about?”

Marcus looked up at her and he felt his natural reserve loosen, unable to hold in the burden of his sorrow any longer. What good had holding his tongue and denying his true feelings ever done him anyway?

“My heart has belonged to another for some time now,” he began, choosing his words carefully, “but I have destroyed the happiness we shared and hurt them beyond repair. It was not a suitable match for a good Roman and I allowed my shame to rule me. I was wrong to do so.”

Lucilia listened intently, her eyes never leaving him and Marcus felt encouraged to continue.

“I wanted so much to be the perfect Roman, to shower my family name with glory and hold my head high. I have spent most of my life working towards those goals but I was thwarted in my soldiering career and when I heard of the lost standard being worshipped as a god in the wilds beyond the wall, I knew it was my last chance to honour my father and wash clean our name. This unsuitable match…” He hesitated and swallowed hard, past the lump in this throat. “It threatened to cost me everything I have worked for and suffered for since I was a child and so I abandoned my heart’s desire and sought out a more suitable companion. It was not my intention to dishonour you. I would have devoted myself to you and given you everything it was within my power to do so. I would have tried to make you happy.”

Lucilia nodded her head in understanding. “I am sure you would have tried as hard as any man has ever tried to please his wife.”

“Can you forgive me?”

“There is nothing to forgive.” She placed her hand in his and Marcus gripped it tightly. “We are all bound by laws and customs. I would like nothing more than to be afforded the same rights and freedoms as a man but it is not to be. I must accept my place in this world and be satisfied by occasional triumphs wherever I can find them. Had I been in your place, I may well have done as you did.”

“It was wrong of me to seek to salvage my own reputation by removing your chance to choose your own husband,” he said. “I will admit that I had assumed you would be flattered by my attention and more than willing to be my wife.”

“Such vanity.” She laughed but it was kindly and held no hint of anger or reprimand. “Yet not without good reason for you are indeed most handsome.”

Marcus allowed a small smile to creep across his face and he felt his cheeks heat with embarrassment.

“I have made a fool of myself,” he said, dipping his head slightly. “I have thrown myself at you and acted in a manner most unbecoming.”

“I do not think less of you for any of this, Marcus but I would implore you to listen to your heart and attempt to repair your bond with this most unsuitable person.” 

Marcus was relieved that she did not press him on the identity of the love he had set aside and the reasons why they would be unsuitable for a good Roman. 

“I fear it is not as simple as that,” he admitted. “Too much damage has been done.”

“Are they already wed to another?”

“No.”

“Do they have four legs and a tail?”

Marcus laughed out loud and felt such a swell of gratitude to Lucilia that he would have embraced her had the chaperone not been watching them still. 

“Not unless they have been cursed since I saw them last!” 

“Then I see no obstacle before you except for your own pride and your scorned lover’s ire. We all want to be good Romans Marcus but love is sacred, a gift from the gods and it is not bestowed upon everyone. Whoever this unsuitable match is, put things right between you.”

The brief moment of levity passed and once more Marcus felt a heavy weight settle on his shoulders. 

“I have made my choice and I must live with it,” he said. “All hope must surely be gone.”

“There is always hope,” Lucilia told him fiercely. “Wrongs can be put right if you have the courage to face them and ask for forgiveness and prove your worth.”

“I fear that I lack such courage.”

“Nonsense! You are the bravest of all men. You did what no other would have thought to do when you ventured north to find your father’s lost eagle. You have earned your right to love whoever you choose.”

Marcus met Lucilia’s eyes again and took strength from her firm resolve. He was fond of her but he knew that he could never feel for her, or any woman, the amount of passion that she deserved, for his heart had already been too perfectly paired and such love could never be surpassed. What if he returned to the farm and pleaded with Esca, admitted his stupidity and promised him everything? Esca’s love could not have completely vanished already. Surely if there were still a single grain of love left in the man then Marcus could work hard and tend it and watch it grow again in time. Trenus was an added complication but if Marcus did not try then he would spend the remainder of his miserable life tortured by repentance and grief. He did not want a wife. He wanted Esca. 

Slowly, hope began to creep back into his heart.

 

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Esca and Trenus had continued to work in the field for a while after Marcus left, stopping to eat their evening meal only when they were both exhausted and soiled with sweat and dirt. As they were alone with no Romans around to preach cleanliness and hygiene they ate first before washing – one more act of rebellion, Esca thought, although what good it did when Marcus was not around to see it he did not know.

They boiled some of the eggs collected fresh from the chickens that morning and ate the last of the broth that remained and when they had finished they cleared away their bowls, careful not to leave any mess, and went outside to wash. They stripped to the waist and doused themselves with the water that Marcus had drawn from the stream earlier but the water was bitterly cold despite the day having been quite warm.

“Bathing in hot water is all very well,” Trenus said as Esca shivered, “but it induces far too much softness of character. This is far more bracing.”

“Softness?” Esca declared, attempting to feign outrage. “You will eat your words!”

“I am still a little hungry. I will eat anything you have to give me!”

He grinned and Esca cupped his hands together before splashing him with as much water as he could. Trenus whooped and an answering spray of water came flying towards Esca. He tried to dodge out of the way but it caught him and the yard erupted into a melee of shouts and laughs and wasted water and grappling until they were both frozen and dripping from head to toe. 

Dusk had already fallen and night was closing in fast so they ran about to keep warm, still wearing only their boots and braccae as they locked away the chickens and brought in the horses then they retreated to the barn and stripped off the rest of their sodden clothes.

“We should take these into the house and dry them by the fire, ourselves also. Marcus will not return for a while yet.” Esca pushed away any thoughts of Marcus betrothing himself to Lucilia and smiled. “Here,” he said, squatting to pick up a rough woollen blanket with the intention of passing it to Trenus. “Wrap yourself in this.”

“Esca?”

The soft, low quality of that voice made his skin prickle and Esca looked up to see Trenus watching him, his eyes dark and enquiring. There was no need for either of them to say anything further for Esca knew what Trenus was asking and his own body answered on his behalf. Accustomed to a regular bedmate before Marcus had changed his mind and left him bereft, he craved release and a warm willing body to help him along. Esca stood and took a step towards Trenus, reaching out to run his fingers slowly up his arm and lingering over the inking on his skin, his cock already rising before Trenus had touched him. 

 

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Marcus dallied on the way home, hope and fear and uncertainty clashing in his breast and it was dark by the time he returned, the farmhouse empty and the fire almost burnt out. There was no sign of life, the table cleared and no evidence of dinner having been taken. For a moment he thought they had gone but his eyes fell upon Esca’s bow propped against the wall and relief flooded through him. Esca would never leave without his bow.

He went out into the yard and looked around, everything that he meant to say to Esca milling around inside his head.

“Esca!” he called but there was no answer, no noises except the breeze blowing past his ears and soft whinnies and the stamping of hooves coming from the stable.

It was too dark for them to be out in the fields still and a quick look inside the stable showed only the horses so Marcus headed towards the barn, propelled forward by some invisible force despite a deepening feeling of foreboding that began to pool in his gut. He stopped in front of the entrance, gripped by an irrational fear of passing the threshold then he slowly slipped through the darkened doorway.

He heard them before he saw them, low moans and the rustle of straw, and he knew what he would see before his eyes lit upon them. They were both naked, a lantern sat atop a bale of hay casting a flickering golden glow across their bodies. Esca sat with his arms extended behind him and supporting his weight, his legs parted and bent slightly at the knee to accommodate Trenus between them. 

Marcus wanted to look away, to force away that image but something kept him rooted to the spot and he remained hidden in the shadows just inside the door of the barn. Nothing that he had imagined in the dead of the night when he was alone with his thoughts had even come close to the despair that engulfed him now and he almost fell to his knees.

Esca’s head was thrown back, his throat exposed and his lips parted as Trenus knelt over him, mouth savouring all that was spread before him until finally he nuzzled the skin at the side of Esca’s neck. Esca groaned and Marcus could almost taste the skin there – he had suckled there many times himself for it was a particular favourite area of Esca’s, that strip from below his ear down to where his neck met his shoulder. Marcus remembered other areas that would drive Esca wild with desire – the small of his back, the insides of his thighs and the curve of his ears. Trenus had known all that before of course and he would not have forgotten.

As Marcus watched Esca sat upright, his arms coming forward to slide around Trenus’s waist. He kept moving forward, tipping Trenus backwards onto his arse, the two of them laughing. Trenus remained where he was and Esca straddled his thighs, his hands braced against Trenus’s chest while he moved slowly, grinding against the man beneath him. Trenus stroked his hands upwards over Esca’s hips and settled on his waist for a moment before moving to his shoulders and pulling him down, their bodies pressed together and writhing with increasing vigour.

Marcus let out a strangled cry and clamped a hand over his mouth but they had not heard him, too engrossed in each other. He was glad on this occasion that he could not understand the words they whispered hoarsely to each other but still his treacherous mind imagined their meaning. He thought of the words in Latin that spilled out of Esca’s mouth when they had lain together. Marcus had always kept in check the impulse to curse and howl and cry out but Esca usually made no such effort, words of encouragement and praise falling from his lips whenever those lips were not engaged elsewhere.

Esca and Trenus began to move faster now, rutting against each other frantically, the barn filling with desperate grunts and the sound of sweat-slicked skin slapping against sweat-slicked skin until Marcus wanted to turn and run as far from this place as he could. A few moments more, then Esca pushed up on his arms and arched his back, letting out that same low guttural groan as he always did when he spilled his seed, his lean lithe body jolting in pleasure as Trenus bucked underneath him and gave out an answering cry. 

When they had finished Esca lowered himself against Trenus’s chest and they lay still in the soft light of the lantern but Marcus could hear their ragged breaths and murmured words. He felt light-headed, aware only of the sickness in his gut and the trail of hot tears running down his cheeks to drip off his jaw. Too late, he managed to lower his eyes from the scene before him, squeezing them tightly shut. This is what your pride has brought you, he thought, your Esca lying with another while you spy from the shadows like an outcast. You have brought this upon yourself. You thought that you could leave your love for him behind but you were wrong. You thought that you could fall at his feet and rekindle what you had lost but you were wrong. You returned home so full of hope but you were too late.

The mocking voice in his head continued as Marcus quietly crept out of the barn and returned alone to the farmhouse.


	11. Chapter 11

Marcus woke early and rose immediately, taking some bread and wandering off to sit beside the stream that made up the southern and eastern boundaries of the farm. The sun was not yet fully risen, a pale wash of light illuminating the horizon to the east but he wanted to be away from the farmhouse and he wanted to avoid seeing Esca and Trenus for as long as possible. The image of the two of them together in the barn the night before still refused to leave him no matter how he tried to distract himself and he despaired of ever feeling relief from the deep ache in his chest. 

If only he had never gone to see Lucilia, then Esca and Trenus would not have been left alone on the farm together. If only he had come home sooner, he would have been able to talk to Esca and tell him everything that he had been ready to say before Esca had retired to the barn to spill his seed over Trenus’s skin. Perhaps it had already been too late. Marcus wondered if they had begun seeking solace in each other’s arms on previous nights, as he had lain in his own bed torturing himself with that very thought. Had they been rekindling their past love in the barn that first night on the farm? Had they done so at Uncle Aquila’s villa after Trenus had been purchased? Marcus’s head was full of so many questions, the answers to which would bring him no comfort even if he could ask. He had practically driven Esca into the arms of another for it had been inevitable – Esca was young and healthy and once Marcus had rejected him, he could not have been expected to remain chaste for the rest of his days. This was simply one more thing for Marcus to add to the list of his failings.

When the sun had cleared the horizon Marcus managed to rouse himself and give some thought to the day ahead. There was work to be done. He had neglected his duties enough with his pointless visits to see Lucilia and there was little to be gained from sitting by the stream feeling sorry for himself, attempting to make plans for a future he could not envisage beyond the present moment. He began to trudge wearily back towards the house and the little group of outbuildings, noticing on the way that someone was already leading the two horses they kept for riding out into the pasture. It was Trenus and the very sight of him filled Marcus with jealousy. Oh, that he had never heard of the slave in Placidus’s possession, that he had never gone to Calleva and paved the way for Trenus to re-enter Esca’s life.

Marcus looked around as he continued on his way but there was no sign of Esca and at the thought of that familiar form, that beloved face, his breath hitched and the ache in his chest was pierced by a sharp stab. He would have to face him soon enough and although it would be difficult, it could not be avoided. Might as well do it now.

He set off towards the barn, hoping to find Esca there but as he walked past the stable Marcus heard a yelp and the sound of a scolding voice. He stopped at the entrance and looked in to where Esca was attempting to check Agilis’s hooves.

“Try to bite me again and I will ask Marcus to sell you.” 

Despite the reproach in his voice Esca began laughing and the sound made Marcus smile before he remembered the last time he had heard that laugh, as Esca had writhed naked and eager on top of Trenus in the barn.

“You would never allow me to sell him,” he murmured. “You are too fond of him.”

Esca stopped what he was doing and looked up, letting go of Agilis’s forelock and standing upright, batting away the horse’s muzzle as Agilis once more tried to express his displeasure at having his hooves touched.

“You were gone early this morning,” he said. “I thought perhaps you had returned to our neighbour’s.”

“No.” Marcus shook his head. “I could not sleep and I wanted to be away from the house.”

“I expect Manlius is delighted with your betrothal to Lucilia. He likes you and now he will have something new to talk about at all his dinner parties. The great and the good in the area can be regaled with tales of the excellent match his most sensible and unexciting daughter has made.”

Bowing his head at Esca’s unkind words, Marcus closed his eyes and felt his chest tighten but he took a deep, steadying breath and blew it out slowly, rebuking himself for being afraid to speak.

“Lucilia is a far better woman than many men would deserve,” he said, each word a huge effort as he willed his voice not to crack, “but there is no betrothal.”

“I don’t understand.” When Marcus opened his eyes again Esca was frowning as he wiped his hands on his tunic. “I thought you intended to ask Manlius for her hand.”

“I did.”

“Then what happened?”

“I did not speak to Manlius,” Marcus admitted, “and if you see him, I would ask that neither you nor Trenus ever mention my intentions to him. Lucilia will tell him nothing and I have no wish to trouble her more than I have done already with my selfishness.”

“But I don’t understand,” Esca said again, genuinely confused. “Did you change your mind?”

“Lucilia did not want me to ask him. She, quite rightly, pointed out that I do not love her nor does she love me and therefore she felt a marriage would not be of benefit to either of us. She was right.”

“So what will you do now?”

“What I should have done right from the start,” Marcus said. “I will work hard and build up the farm and try to be content with that. I will not attempt to find another suitable woman to marry. It was folly on my part to think marriage was a solution to my problem.” He met Esca’s eyes. “I know that now.”

Esca’s eyes grew cold and his mouth tightened into a thin line. “I had assumed that all would go well for you and you would be successful in your endeavour. I am sorry your plans did not come to fruition.” 

The sharp edge to his voice told otherwise. Unwilling to provoke more anger, Marcus hesitated to tell him of what he had seen, considering that it may be for the best to consign the whole sorry story to the furthest reaches of his soul where it could eat away at him at its leisure. He felt strangely detached though, as if all the different parts of his body were separating and acting independently of each other and before he could stop it his mouth opened and he heard himself speak. 

“Once Lucilia and I had discussed the situation and agreed that I was a fool,” he began, “I returned here earlier than I had expected.”

The look on Esca’s face stopped him as he realised that there was no need to say more. For a moment they stood face to face, staring at each other while the thin line of Esca’s mouth disappeared, his lips parted slowly and his eyes widened in quiet horror.

“You saw us,” he whispered.

“I came looking for you,” Marcus admitted. “I thought at first you had gone but I saw your bow in the house and so I came to the barn to speak with you.”

Esca’s lips moved but no sound came from them, certainly not the accusations of spying and proportioning of blame that Marcus had expected.

“Did you lie with him to teach me a lesson?”

“No, Marcus.” Esca took a step forward until Marcus could have reached out and touched him had he any right to still do such a thing and when he spoke there was no mockery or taunting. “Is that really what you think? That I would use Trenus in such a way? He wished to feel the arms of a friend around him, to seek pleasure from someone who he chose to lie with of his own free will. He wanted to feel the intimate touch of one who cared for him.” There was a moment of silence before he spoke again, quietly, gently, sadly. “As did I.”

Marcus nodded his head in understanding, forcing away the humiliating sting of tears gathering behind his eyes.

“How did it come to this?” Esca asked him. “We had everything we needed to be happy.”

“I am sorry, Esca,” Marcus said, his voice rough from emotion and fatigue. “We had everything we needed except for my courage. I failed us both.”

At his admission a sudden surge of anger seemed to engulf Esca and he pushed past Marcus, leaving him in the stable with Agilis who looked at him balefully with large, limpid eyes.

 

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For several more days the three men worked together on the farm from sunrise until sunset, ploughing the land and sowing the seeds that would grow into crops for their own use and to sell for profit, stopping only to sleep and to eat. Esca and Trenus still slept in the barn every night but there was no repeat of that one time they had rutted together to achieve release. The knowledge that Marcus had seen them hung over Esca like a blanket of sorrow and although he did not tell Trenus, his old friend knew him well enough to understand that any attempt to repeat such actions would not currently be welcomed. They lay close however and sometimes they would wake in the mornings huddled together having sought each other out in their sleep for warmth and comfort.

Life on the once happy farm was stifled by gloom and Esca began to wonder how long they could continue. He often saw Marcus favouring his leg as they worked and although no mention was ever made of it, he could tell that Marcus was hiding his pain, not wishing to admit to his discomfort and Esca was once more torn by conflicting emotions. It wounded him to see Marcus retreat back to the quiet, forlorn man without hope that he had been when Esca had met him first but still, a part of him wanted to be glad to see how Marcus’s pride and broken promises had come back to haunt him. Trenus meanwhile became restless and would often stare off into the distance as if he wished to be away from the confines of the farm, roaming freely. Meals in the little farmhouse were taken in either silence or with stilted conversation and had he not been too weighed down by the atmosphere, Esca would have screamed in frustration. 

All that consoled him was having the solid presence of Trenus beside him at night but as they lay next to each other after yet another exhausting day of back-breaking labour, Esca could not help but notice how agitated he was.

“You are not happy here,” he said, turning to face Trenus, recognising the wish to escape an intolerable situation. Esca had felt that longing himself when he had been a slave, desperate to be anywhere but where he was “I had hoped that you would find peace here but it will not happen. It cannot. You have regained your freedom only to find yourself caught in the trouble between Marcus and myself.”

Trenus reached out and placed his hand on Esca’s cheek, his thumb gently stroking the skin as he smiled and leaned forward to kiss his forehead lightly.

“I have always wanted nothing more than for you to be happy and I cannot bear to see you in such despair. You still care for Marcus, I can see it in the way you look at him despite everything that has happened. You cannot decide whether you want to give in to your anger or your heart.”

“Every time I want to forgive him, I am reminded of his betrayal and every time I think of his betrayal, I am reminded of what drew me to him in the first place.”

“Now that he has decided against marrying,” Trenus asked, “what will you do?”

“I do not know,” Esca admitted with a sigh. “All I know is that we cannot continue as we are, all three of us miserable and working ourselves to the bone to distract our minds.”

Trenus nodded and looked away as if he wished to say something that he was unsure Esca would want to hear.

“You know that Marcus told me he had no wish to keep me here if I did not want to stay,” he said finally.

“Will you leave then?”

Trenus sat up and looked down at Esca earnestly, the light from the lantern reflecting in his eyes and making them appear to dance in his face.

“Come with me,” he said. “Let us leave this place and find somewhere else to call home. A new place where there are no Romans. Perhaps we could survive north of the wall, with the Selgovae. When you told me of your adventures with Marcus, you said they took the surviving men from his father’s legion into their homes so why not you and me?”

Such a thought was not new to Esca’s mind for he had often thought of leaving the farm since he had been told of Marcus’s intention to marry but to hear Trenus speak the words aloud, he was filled with sudden apprehension. 

“What if they did not?” he replied. “I have no wish to venture into the north and find myself running for my life again.”

“Would you rather remain here in despair or would you rather be free, truly free?” Trenus spoke with such passion that it was difficult not to be swept along on the current and Esca was briefly reminded of occasions in their childhood where Trenus would encourage him into all sorts of mischief. “We are Brigantes,” he continued. “We have no fight with the Selgovae. They have no reason to shun us.”

“That is true.” Esca could feel his emotions warring within him, anticipation chipping away at his misgivings. “Perhaps such a thing would not be impossible.”

“Of course it would not be impossible. And it would not be our only option. Marcus said he would provide assistance if I wished to leave, he will hardly go back on his word and leave us destitute if you come with me. We could find somewhere, I know we could. Perhaps we could look for more of our people. They must be out there for there were many other chieftains apart from your father. Just think, Esca. We could once more be true Brigantes, free from Rome.” 

Trenus was right. The Brigantes had been numerous, spread far and wide across the land and they would not all have been taken into slavery. Some would have escaped and they could search for them, live amongst their own once more, maybe gather together a small tribe of their own. Perhaps he could one day even reclaim his birthright and be chieftain after all. Suddenly a multitude of possibilities began to push their way into Esca’s head but in the midst of all the new options that seemed open to him, he remembered Marcus and his growing resolve faltered.

“When will you go?” he asked.

“As soon as I can for I cannot bear this. We are no longer slaves Esca and I do not wish to live under the roof of a Roman if I do not have to.”

“I will give it thought,” he assured Trenus. “I promise you that I will but I must speak to Marcus first. I will not make such a decision without letting him know that I may leave. I have had enough of the trouble that falseness can bring.”

“I understand but please, do not linger too long over this. I cannot stay here. Even if things were better between you and Marcus and you were happy, I could not stay. I do not belong here.”

Esca watched as Trenus laid down and pulled the furs tightly around himself, settling in so that they were once more lying face to face.

“When I returned from the north with Marcus,” he mumbled, his eyes heavy and sleep beginning to embrace him, “he told me that I could decide our future. This farm was my choice, my dream. To work the land and watch the fields yield crops every year and know that my work had brought about the harvests. Marcus shared that dream. I will not make this decision lightly but whatever decision I make, I will honour.”

“I would expect nothing less,” Trenus said kindly. “Now sleep, my friend and may you dream of happier times.”

 

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Marcus stretched out his leg and dug his fingers deep into the spasming muscles that threatened to render him useless at least for the entire morning. He would have to be quick for Esca and Trenus would be awake soon and joining him in the farmhouse to eat and he did not want them to know. He had grown tired recently of the sting of humiliation as his many weaknesses had been displayed for all to see.

He rubbed and pressed and finally his leg began to ease enough that he could bear the pain and walk without stumbling as he finished dressing himself and lit a fire. Before long he heard the tramp of heavy footsteps across the yard and both Esca and Trenus arrived to pay their respects and join him at the table.

“The nights are no longer so cold I think,” Esca remarked to him as they ate. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yes,” Marcus lied. “I am well rested and ready for another day’s work. Yourselves?”

“Also well rested, thank you,” Trenus replied. “What are your instructions for today?”

Marcus gave his instructions, since it pleased the other two to have him do so then Trenus promptly excused himself, leaving Marcus alone with Esca. Esca was evidently lingering with some purpose in mind for he stood as still and straight as a statue, his hands clasped behind his back and his eyes darting all around, resting everywhere but on Marcus.

“Trenus wishes to leave,” he said suddenly, his voice unnaturally loud in the quiet of the little house.

“I told him when I gave him his freedom that he could leave if he wished,” Marcus replied, his heart beginning to thud as he awaited what else was to come. “This is not unexpected.”

“I know.”

“Then tell him I will do whatever I can to help him on his way.”

Still rooted to the spot Esca gave a curt nod, the expression on his face as hard as stone.

“He has asked me to go with him.”

Marcus felt the last remaining seed of hope in his heart wither and die as those words echoed inside his head.

“And will you?” he asked.

Esca dropped his gaze to his feet.

“I do not know,” he said. “I would ask a favour of you.”

“Anything Esca.” Anything you want, Marcus thought. Just tell me and I will do it. I will kill for you. I will die for you. Just please, do not leave me.

“Would you allow me to forego my work for today and tomorrow? I must decide what to do and I wish to be away from here so I can think clearly.”

Marcus nodded his head, struggling to be able to speak but he knew he had to. If Esca wanted to leave, he would respect his decision no matter how much he wanted to scream and beg and promise things to make him stay but he would not let the man go without adequately expressing his repentance.

“I will not hold you here against your will but neither will I let you leave without telling you this. I regret with all of my heart what I have done. I have caused myself more hurt than those rumours ever could have done and, even worse, I have done the same to you. The consequences of what I have done will bring me sorrow for the remainder of my life but it is not my intention to make you stay out of pity. You have always been the strongest of us, Esca. You will be strong now and you will not allow my words to influence you, I think I can be sure of that. I wish only for you to be happy and if you must leave to find that happiness, you will go with my blessing.”

Esca’s mask of indifference held firm for a moment then he let it slip, just a little.

“I will not make you or Trenus wait,” he said. “I will return by sundown tomorrow at the latest and then you will know my decision.”

 

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Sundown tomorrow at the latest, he had told Marcus but whether it would take him that long to decide, Esca was uncertain. He took some water and some food for Agilis then he jumped up onto the back of the lumbering old horse and set off from the farm without looking back.

Stay with Marcus or leave with Trenus.

The choice was his to make.


	12. Chapter 12

Esca’s head was full of questions which, when answered, led only to more questions for him to consider. Leave or stay. Trenus or Marcus. Every point in favour of one was countered by a point in favour of the other and as he ambled along on Agilis he despaired of ever being able to decide what to do for the best. For hours he had thought of nothing else but the dilemma before him and now he felt like a hound chasing its tail, never quite achieving its goal. Time to take a deep breath and start again, he thought. He had loved Trenus; he had mourned his loss as much as he had mourned the loss of his family and his freedom and he had never expected that love to be surpassed by anything else. Then he had found Marcus and the heart that he had thought was cold and dead had been coaxed back to life. Marcus had saved not only his life but his soul, eventually bringing him the promise of a future worth living but then he had torn that happiness from Esca’s grasp, thinking only of himself and that was when Trenus had come back, offering a chance to recapture some of the life that Rome had tried to take away. 

A future with Trenus had never been an option when they lived amongst the Brigantes. While they would always have remained friends and perhaps, now and then, slipped away to be alone together they would both have found wives, for Esca could hardly have become chieftain and kept Trenus by his side as his lover. With Marcus, it had been different. Esca had foreseen a future with just the two of them, living and working alongside each other and he had embraced that idea wholeheartedly until Marcus changed his mind. In his sorrow over Marcus’s betrayal, Trenus had brought much-needed comfort and Esca did not want to feel the sharp sting of his loss again but he missed Marcus, there was no point in denying it. Anger still flared occasionally when he considered how easily he had been rebuffed but it was not as bright as it once had and even with Marcus so close, Esca felt his loss every moment of every day. 

If he left, would he ever be able to forget? If he chose to go with Trenus, Esca was not sure they could ever be to each other again what they had once been but perhaps in time they could and it would be enough. But always, his thoughts came back to Marcus. With Marcus, the passion that had grown between them had proved to be all-consuming and although he had never meant to let the man delve so deep into his heart, once there he was not easily forgotten. 

Ah, enough! Esca’s head was beginning to ache with the jumble of thoughts milling around inside it and he looked up at the sky, letting out a loud roar of frustration. Startled by the sudden noise, Agilis shied and whinnied softly then his pace slowed until he stopped completely, lowering his head to pull at the lush grass beneath them.

“Just a little further, my friend,” Esca said when he had recovered his composure, kicking his heels against Agilis’s sides and urging him onwards again. “We’ll stop soon, I promise.”

When they had left the farm, Esca and Agilis had followed the stream as best they could for several miles but now they could see the edge of the great forest that spread out as far as the eye could see, offering seclusion and shelter. When they reached the trees, Esca steered Agilis along a narrow path that he remembered from the time months before when he and Marcus had come this way, exploring their new surroundings. As he had done with Marcus that day, Esca followed the trail that wound deep into the forest until he found the clearing that surrounded a small pool and he jumped nimbly down from Agilis, tethering him to a tree. 

Since he was no nearer to making a decision than he had been when he had left the farm that morning, he busied himself gathering wood for a fire then settled between two of the large, gnarled roots at the base of the tree and watched Agilis graze peacefully in the shade. When he was younger and there had been a puzzle for him to mull over, Esca had always found that it helped to talk to his father or his mother but this time there was no-one, only a clumsy old cart-horse.

“What shall I do Agilis?” he asked. “If all had been well with Marcus when Trenus was found I do not think I would be here now, trying to decide whether to stay or go. If all had been well, I would never have considered leaving Marcus’s side. Well,” he admitted to his silent audience, “perhaps a fleeting thought at the temptation of a new adventure but nothing more. Is that the only question I have to find the answer to then? Can I forgive him? If I ask myself whether I still love Marcus then the answer must be yes for such love does not die quickly but forgiveness? I am not so sure. Then there is Trenus.” Esca sighed and looked up at Agilis. “I thought him dead for so long but I never forgot him and he has never done anything that required my forgiveness.”

If he looked into his heart and found Marcus undeserving then he could not stay on the farm with him, no matter what. He was not even sure that things could be put right between them but Marcus had been so genuinely contrite when Esca had told him that he may leave, he found it difficult to doubt the sincerity of the apology that followed. Marcus still loved him, he was sure of that. The hurt in his eyes upon revealing that he had seen him with Trenus that night, that one night when they had allowed old feelings to resurface, had left Esca in no doubt. 

He sat for a while longer and thought of the grief he had felt when he had been taken as a slave, the desperation to escape the clutches of Rome and be amongst his own people again. For years he had clung to memories of his past as he had endured life as a slave; each time he had been beaten and mistreated, forced to serve the whims of his Roman masters in whichever way they wanted, he had remembered better times to sustain him. Sometimes he thought of his father and his little brothers and his mother’s smile but also of Trenus, of the times they had roamed the moors and swum in the pool beneath the waterfall, their favourite place. Then one day he had looked up from the dirt in the arena in Calleva and he had seen Marcus and in that moment, as the very jaws of death had snapped at him, all thoughts of his past had faded to be replaced by the earnest face of a Roman.

A sudden gust of cold wind rustled the forest canopy, making Esca shiver and draw his cloak tightly around his shoulders. He used the wood he had gathered earlier to lay a small fire to warm himself against the chill and when he was done he sat cross-legged beside the crackling flames and dug into the bag of provisions he had brought with him, his empty stomach welcoming the first food he had eaten in hours.

It was a strange feeling to be outside like this for he could not remember the last time he had been alone, away from the farm but Esca pushed aside the sudden dislike of such solitude that crept over him and forced his mind to return to the decision that had to be made. He continued to sit by the fire for some time mulling over the same thoughts, occasionally adding more wood but it was not until the pile beside him had almost gone that he realised darkness had fallen and he was too tired to think further that night. He stoked the embers and added the last of the kindling, huddling deeper into his cloak and curling up to try and sleep on the ground, just as he had done every night on his travels with Marcus, searching for the lost eagle standard. 

 

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Marcus stared sadly at the congealed, blackened mess in his bowl and poked at it with his spoon. If he was left alone at the farm then he would have to employ additional help to run the place, maybe build some extra rooms onto the house as Uncle Aquila had suggested, so he might as well employ a cook to stop himself from starving.

“Esca always tells me off for my inability to warm food without burning it,” he said, gingerly taking a mouthful and chewing it. “It seems I have not learned that particular lesson yet.”

“This is still better than some of the food I’ve eaten over the past few years,” Trenus replied. “I expect your mind was elsewhere.”

“As yours must be.”

“Perhaps, but there is little either of us can do until he returns.”

Marcus nodded in agreement, envying Trenus his ability to stay so calm. “By this hour tomorrow we will know,” he said, eyes searching the other man’s face for any sign of emotion that might confirm Trenus was as anxious as he was. “Is there nothing that will make you remain here?”

“You said I was free to go if I so wished.” 

Trenus narrowed his eyes and frowned but Marcus was quick to allay his suspicions.

“And I will honour that,” he assured, annoyed at himself for having even the slightest thought of manipulating the situation. It was too late for that anyway for if Esca came back having decided to leave and found that Trenus had been encouraged to change his mind, he would likely still leave on his own to spite them both! “I am sorry,” Marcus continued. “It seems I would do anything to have Esca stay here, even if it means trying to persuade you to change your mind but that is unfair of me. I promised you genuine freedom and you shall have it, whatever the cost.”

Brow still furrowed, Trenus regarded him curiously.

“If you truly want him to stay with you,” he asked, “why not simply refuse to let him leave? You would be able to find some way to force his hand. You Romans pride yourselves on your ability to bend others to your will.”

“This is Esca we speak of,” Marcus said with a hollow laugh. “Do you really think I could stop him?”

“No.” A fond smile began to curve the corners of Trenus’s mouth. “He has always been strong-willed.”

“I learned that as soon as I met him. Even after so many years as a slave, he was filled with defiance and anger but still, there was no malice.” Marcus abandoned his dinner and washed the taste out of his mouth with a long drink. “It takes an exceptional man to care for his enemy as well as Esca cared for me.”

“Enslavement is hard on any man and for him it would be doubly so but his spirit will not easily be broken. He would have been as great a chieftain as his father, perhaps more so.”

“I have no doubt of that.”

“Stubborn and wilful but faithful and shrewd.” Trenus’s smile widened, no doubt remembering an episode from their youth when Esca had steadfastly refused to be diverted from his chosen path and had gone his own way, consequences be damned. “Yes, Esca would have made a great chieftain, one to strike fear into the hearts of any who threatened his people.”

“When I gave him his freedom,” Marcus said, “he could have left me to die but instead, he went for help and came back to risk his life for me. He deserves to be truly free to live the life of his choosing more than any man I have ever met, more than any Roman. This place is as much his as mine for I would have nothing without him.” He paused to think of all that he owed Esca and how he had repaid him with rejection. “I have no fight with you, Trenus. Whatever Esca decides, I will accept without question.”

“As shall I.” 

They glanced up at each other across the table and it was Trenus who looked away first to resume his meal, evidently unwilling to let even Marcus’s burnt offering go to waste.

 

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Esca awoke, stiff and cold, the fire long since dead and a new morning already upon him, dim light filtering through the trees. He rolled over to check that Agilis was still safely tethered and prised himself off the ground to sit with his knees drawn up to his chest, rubbing his arms to restore some feeling to them before kneeling by the tiny pool and splashing icy cold water on his face. At the shock, his mind sprang into action and bombarded him with the same questions as the day before but as Esca watched his reflection ripple on the surface of the water, he found that he had answers.

He stood and slowly stretched out his limbs then greeted Agilis, wrapping his arms around the old horse’s thick neck and letting the warmth seep into his frozen bones.

“I am sorry you did not have your stable to shelter you,” he murmured, “but you will be home soon enough, my friend. Never fear.”

While he slept, Esca had dreamt of only one man and one life and perhaps he should simply let his dreams guide him for those dreams had filled him with a longing that eclipsed any other desire. As he ate the remains of the food he had brought with him he thought about both Marcus and Trenus with a mixture of sadness and hopeful anticipation but there was none of the indecision of the day before.

“Come, Agilis.” He untethered him then swung himself up onto his broad back. “It is time we made our way home and put this sorry mess behind us. There is nothing to be gained from making everyone wait any longer than they have to.”

Although there would be a heaviness in his heart for that which would be lost, Esca had made his choice and he had made it freely.

 

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The sun was at its highest when Marcus left his work to sit on the large flat rock that made an excellent seat by the stream, listening to the gentle wash of the water as it flowed past. Before Esca he had lived his life quietly, deliberately avoiding close friendships that may turn to something more, seeking out only occasional relief with those he knew he would never have to see again for he had known that by giving his heart to someone, he would open himself up to the possibility of having his heart broken as well as being ridiculed and shunned. He had come to love Esca so deeply however that he had been unable to stop himself and Esca had proved worthy once he had been given his freedom. He had not hesitated to stay. He had offered care and loyalty, support and love and had asked only that Marcus show faith and love to him in return. They had been everything to each other and then Marcus had broken his own heart, consumed by pride and shame.

He remained by the stream for longer than he had intended but the monotonous rush of the water brought some much needed peace and Marcus was loathe to return to his chores. Just a little longer, he thought, for come sundown you may find that this is the last moment of peace that the world bestows upon you. He heard someone approaching then and turned his head, expecting to see Trenus come to accuse him of laziness but it was Esca who was walking towards him. 

“You came back early,” was all Marcus could think to say, all awareness of the world around him vanishing as he focused on Esca and wondered what his early return could mean. Would the news be good or bad? Was his life about to start anew or die like a fire doused with water?

Esca came to stand before him but Marcus did not rise from the rock for he could not be sure that his shaking legs would support his weight. He looked up but he could not read the intention as those grey eyes studied him thoughtfully and the longer Esca said nothing, the heavier Marcus’s heart became. So this was it. Esca had decided to go and Marcus would be left with nothing but regret and his precious good name. He let out the breath he had been holding and leaned forward with his elbows on his thighs and his head in his hands but his head snapped up sharply again when he felt the light touch of a hand on his knee. Esca was kneeling in front of him, his face still unreadable as he took one of Marcus’s hands and entwined their fingers.

“There will always be a place in my heart for Trenus,” he said, so quietly that the sound of the stream flowing past almost drowned it out, “but he is my past, Marcus and you are my future. It is my choice to stay with you.”

Marcus simply stared at him while he tried to understand the words, all sense deserting him.

“You will not leave?” he whispered, seeking additional proof, still unwilling to trust that he had understood correctly.

Esca squeezed his hand and shook his head, the expression on his face still grave. “As strange as it sometimes seems, I do not think I would ever be truly happy without you. We belong together, you and I. You know that as well as I do.”

“I never stopped loving you, Esca!” Marcus exclaimed, unable to stop the words from flowing where before he had struggled to find his voice. “Please believe that. I thought I could stop the shame of those rumours by finding a wife but I always loved you, only you.” 

“Then never attempt to cast me aside again!”

“I will not, not ever. I took everything for granted and I did not fully appreciate you until I lost you but I will never again be so selfish. I realise now that you mean more to me than my honour and my name but by the time I found the courage to try and beg your forgiveness it was too late and you had already turned to Trenus for comfort.”

“That is all it was, I swear,” Esca said. “Only comfort. It was you that I reached for when I woke, you I dreamed of every night. I love Trenus as a brother but the greater part of my heart belongs to you, Marcus.”

“I have been a thick-headed fool. I was afraid to lose my father’s name to disgrace once again. I discarded everything you offered me and bowed to the will of Rome. How wrong I was! I know now that had I told you of the rumours when I first came back from Calleva, you would have shown me the error of my ways and given me the strength to rise above my fears. I let myself believe that my father’s shade would damn me for staying with you and I let my obligations to the dead override my obligations to the living. I will never again deceive myself into believing I can live a fruitful life without you Esca. Never.”

Not giving a thought to his leg, Marcus pitched forward off the rock and onto his knees, flinging his arms around Esca in an embrace so tight it would have crushed a lesser man and when they pulled apart to look at each other, Marcus thought that he had never seen a sweeter sight than the smile that crept across Esca’s face. With a smile of his own, Marcus took Esca’s beautiful, beloved face between his hands and kissed him.


	13. Chapter 13

It felt like something akin to madness to return to Calleva but Uncle Aquila had to be repaid, items had to be purchased for Trenus’s departure and Marcus had to be away from the farm before he lost control of himself and fell upon Esca like a starving man falls upon a loaf of bread. They had agreed, he and Esca, to forego any displays of intimacy while Trenus remained with them and Esca continued to spend his nights in the barn but there was nothing for Marcus to fear. He trusted Esca for he had no reason not to and the man’s word was his bond - his honour meant as much to him as any Roman, Marcus included. He had promised that Trenus and he had sought pleasure from each other only that one time and that there would be no repeat and although Marcus could barely contain his eagerness to have Esca lie beside him each night, he understood the wish for the two friends to spend as much time together as they could before they were parted once more. 

It had proved to be an exquisite torture though, one that drove Marcus half mad with want, desperate as he was to have his hands on Esca again, to touch him and taste him and breathe in the intoxicating scent of his skin. Esca himself was not unaffected, his eyes lingering on Marcus at every opportunity but, as he had whispered one night before he retired to the barn, such abstention would only make the eventual resumption of more intimate activities that much sweeter. He was right of course but still temptation had proved almost too strong to resist and there was a touch of relief mixed in with the inevitable trepidation as Marcus had retrieved the required funds from their resting place and set off towards Calleva, leaving Esca and Trenus behind. All would be well, he reminded himself, for when he returned to the farm this time Esca would be waiting for him.

“There was no need for you to make the journey so soon, my boy,” Uncle Aquila said as a dusty and tired Marcus greeted him with a full purse of coins. “I can live without the money for now. The wolves are not circling.”

“Of that I have no doubt, uncle but I have always been a man who pays his debts quickly and I have no wish to change. Besides, I require the services of the market for Trenus is to leave the farm and I cannot let him go unprepared.”

“Leaving?” The old man’s bushy eyebrows tilted upwards in surprise. 

“He goes with my blessing.”

“Alone?”

“Yes.”

Uncle Aquila shrugged his shoulders and rolled his eyes in exasperation. “You purchase a new slave, free him immediately and already you are dispatching him? Why must everything be done in such a hurry?”

“I fear you would not understand if I attempted to explain,” Marcus replied, “but I promised when I purchased him that I would not stand in his way.”

“I would have thought that you would cherish an extra pair of hands on that farm of yours.”

“I shall miss the help, yes but Esca and I have managed until now. We shall continue to manage.”

“Hmmm, Esca.” Uncle Aquila shook his head and gave a low, throaty chuckle, regarding Marcus with those shrewd eyes of his. “You look considerably less miserable than when I last saw you, a sight which I must admit pleases me although perhaps the reasons will not,” he said. “Am I to take it that recent discord has been resolved?”

“Fortuna has smiled upon me,” Marcus said. “Esca and I have resolved our differences and we are friends once again.”

“Indeed.” The old man finally relieved him of the coin purse. “Well, you know my feelings on that subject but I expect any disapproval on my part will fall on deaf ears.”

“Perhaps we can agree to disagree for you are my only living relative and as such you are very dear to me.” It felt a little awkward saying such things to his uncle but Marcus persevered for the sake of cordiality. “I have devoted most of my life to Rome and had I not been denied the chance to remain a soldier and serve her, I would have continued to live by the same rules as yourself without question. Recently however I have been shown that for my life to have real meaning, I must be true to myself first and Rome second.”

“And what of certain rumours that upset you so? Have you forgotten them?”

“I have earned the right to hold my head high, uncle,” Marcus declared with absolute conviction, “and our name will not be undone by gossip. My father can still walk with pride in the afterlife. If others seek to demean me in this world then I shall continue to hold my head high and I will treat them with the contempt they deserve. The farm is my property, Esca’s also and the life we lead there is ours to choose. My only regret is that you may be tainted by association with your wayward nephew.”

“Bah,” Uncle Aquila spluttered. “Since when have I ever bothered about what the gossips think of me? I’m too old to care. My only concern was for you.”

“And I am grateful for your concern, indeed I am grateful for everything you have done for me. I only ask that you do not think less of me for seeking happiness on my own terms.”

The old man continued to regard Marcus from under his heavy brow but before long he smiled and placed a gnarled hand on Marcus’s shoulder, embracing him with as much gusto as he ever had. “Come along, favourite nephew,” he said. “You need feeding and then perhaps you can at least try to make me understand why you are allowing one of your freedmen to escape the tyranny of your patronage so soon.”

 

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The market was bustling as always but Marcus knew what he wanted and he wished to be away from the place as quickly as possible. Trenus had been disappointed over Esca’s decision to stay but he had taken the news with good humour and although he could nary afford the extra expense, Marcus would not see him leave with nothing but the tunic on his back, nor would he see him unprotected against whatever dangers may lie ahead. He purchased a dagger, a bow and a quiver of arrows since Esca had told him that Trenus had been unrivalled amongst their own people when it came to the use of such weapons. At least, Marcus thought as he handed over the money to the merchant, Trenus would have every chance to be able to fend for himself. 

As he bought extra food, Marcus nodded greetings to a few people he recognised whether they acknowledged him or not and he forced down the tightness that threatened to take root in his chest. If some still wished to slight him then he would endure, for Esca and for himself. He fortified himself with memories of the few hasty kisses and fervent embraces by the stream which had so far been all that heralded their happy reunion and eventually even began to feel pity for those who still threw him condescending glances and turned their backs. They would never know the love of one as faithful and worthy as Esca and their lives would be all the poorer for it.

“Ah, good day to you, young Aquila.”

The friendly greeting took Marcus by surprise and he looked around to see the trader whom he had last spoken to on the very day he first heard the rumours about himself and Esca, remembering how the man had alluded to some gossip but had chatted amiably with him regardless, even going so far as to put down a fellow stallholder for their snub.

“Good day to you,” Marcus replied. “How fares your business?”

“Well enough, my friend, well enough. My wife is content and my children go to their beds each night with full bellies so I have no complaints.”

“I am glad to hear it. Unfortunately I do not require any of your wares today but you can be assured of my business when next I come to town to purchase supplies for the farm.”

“Much appreciated,” the man said, grinning widely and beckoning him nearer. “A man such as yourself is a fine customer to have.”

“Thank you,” Marcus declared, feeling emboldened by the trader’s cheery face and friendly manner. “That is not an opinion shared by all and I am grateful to you for it. It would appear that some still do not think me deserving of their good graces.”

“Pffft.” The trader blew out his lips in disdain. “Those rumours? I hear more talk in your defence than I do in mean-hearted speculation against you. Pay no heed to anyone who still snubs you for I could tell you some new tales that have started circulating about the great and good of this town that would make your hair stand on end! A man’s life is his own in my opinion but there are those among us who will insist upon causing trouble.”

Marcus thought of Placidus and the man’s hope that Trenus would bring nothing but strife. “I must agree with you on that,” he said. “There are those who go out of their way to bring misery to others but sometimes their plans go awry. In such circumstances, it is best that they are shown the error of their ways and that their threats rain down trouble upon their own heads.”

“Well said!” The friendly trader nodded his head in vigorous agreement as his attention was drawn to a customer browsing around his stall. “Have you still some business to attend to or are you on your way back to your uncle’s?” he asked Marcus, always happy to continue chatting even when he was distracted by a potential sale.

Marcus had everything he required but an idea had sprung into his head and he was gripped by determination to act upon it so he bade the trader farewell, thanked him for his kind words and made his way across town to see to one last task.

 

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The sentry recognised Marcus but still he did his best to bar the way, advising that while the tribune was indeed present, he did not like to be disturbed. Undeterred Marcus swept past him and marched onwards to the chamber where he had last met with Placidus, ignoring the twinge in his thigh as each step brought with it a greater sense of fortitude. He would have his say and he would not be held back.

“Aquila!” Placidus exclaimed as he looked up from the scrolls he was pushing idly around his desk. He looked mildly annoyed to be interrupted and stood up as tall as he could, puffing out his puny chest. “What brings you here?”

“I happened to be in town,” Marcus said, “and thought you may be interested to hear news of your former slave since you put such effort into his sale.”

At the mention of Trenus, Placidus’s annoyed expression dissolved into one of smirking triumph.

“Of course,” he replied, his voice dripping with insincerity. “I am always happy to hear any news that concerns you, my esteemed friend and your growing collection of handsome natives. You will have to be quick however. While I realise that you no longer hold a position of any importance and cannot therefore be blamed for being at a loose end, I am extremely busy.”

Marcus fixed him with an intent glare but he did not allow Placidus’s words to hit their mark and he kept the desire to raise his voice under control.

“Obviously you are not so busy that you cannot waste time with insults.”

“I assure you, there was no insult intended. I was merely stating the facts as I see them.” Placidus sauntered over to where Marcus stood and let out an audible sigh. “Very well then,” he drawled. “How fares your latest purchase?”

“He is thriving,” Marcus advised. “He has more flesh on his bones and the bruises that he was sent to me with have faded.”

“One must let them know who is in charge, Aquila. I felt obliged to remind him of his place before allowing him to take up his position in your household.”

“Very generous of you, to show such concern for my welfare.”

“Tell me,” Placidus asked. “Have you become as attached to him as your other Brigantes?”

Deception did not usually come easy to Marcus but as he regarded the hateful man before him he found that on this occasion, the thought of a little pretence filled him with amusement and he tried his best to appear strained.

“We tolerate each other, nothing more,” he said, noticing that his attempt worked well for Placidus’s eyes were suddenly bright with interest. “He is not what I hoped he would be.”

“Do I detect a note of tension in your voice? I do hope that your new slave has not caused you trouble.”

“He is no longer a slave, a fact I am surprised that you were not aware of given your interest in my household.”

“You freed him?” Placidus paused and tilted his chin up, looking at Marcus down his perfect Roman nose. “How very noble of you. Rather ridiculous but most noble.”

“I gave him his freedom in the hope that his hostility towards me would be abate but his behaviour became disruptive and intolerable and I would be rid of him as quickly as possible. To that end, I must send him away.” Marcus cast his eyes down at the floor. “I did not however foresee that Esca would wish to leave with him. As you know, they are old friends.”

“Old friends, yes. I do seem to remember that theirs was quite an emotional reunion.” Marcus glanced up to see that the sly smile on Placidus’s face was now a wide and joyful grin. “My deepest regrets, Aquila. I cannot help but feel somewhat responsible for causing you such upheaval. Whatever will you do? Assert yourself or bow to Esca’s will?” He laughed, a cruel and hollow sound. “Oh, but I see by your woeful countenance that you have once more let yourself to be outdone by slaves and whores. How very unfortunate that you will lose your beloved companion and be left alone with nothing.”

Enough! Marcus dropped his mask of despondency and allowed a menacing smile to take its place.

“The misfortune is yours,” he growled, drawing his brows together. “All that effort you put in to your plan to disrupt my life, all that petty jealousy and it has come to nought!” He advanced on Placidus, eyes fixed on him and caught unawares Placidus backed away until he reached the wall and could go no further. “Trenus is an honourable and decent man! While it is true that he has his freedom and my permission to leave, there is no conflict between us. Esca did consider leaving and I would not have stopped him but he has chosen to stay and he has made that choice freely. I will not lose him and the man you thought to use as a pawn in your mischief-making is now free to make a new life for himself with every assistance I can provide.”

Placidus stared back in stunned silence, his eyes huge, his mouth hanging open. 

“Do not ever think to spread more maliciousness,” Marcus continued, jabbing a finger into Placidus’s chest, “for I will not be cowed by rumour and vile plotting. You may think that you have influential friends but you are not alone in that. I also have friends who can be of use. I commanded my own cohort, remember. The men under my command thought highly of me and it would take but one word from me to bring more trouble or harm to you than you can possibly foresee.”

“How dare you threaten me!” Placidus finally found his voice but it was timid and shaky and he tried to shrink further from Marcus’s looming bulk even though the wall was at his back.

“I dare,” Marcus told him, pouring all the anger and pain of recent times into his words, “and I will see my threat through to its conclusion if you attempt more mischief.”

Once again Placidus’s mouth opened but made no sound and Marcus knew he had made his point and made it well. With a look that he hoped conveyed the disgust he felt, he turned his back on the tribune and hoped to never set eyes on the man again for as long as he lived.

 

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When Marcus returned from Calleva and the sun had set and risen twice more, all three young men stood in the yard of the farm as Trenus prepared to leave.

He had thanked Marcus for his new bow and dagger and seemed quite proud of them, spending time in the evenings hefting the dagger in his hand and challenging Esca to see who could fire their arrows the furthest. He had accepted Esca’s thick woollen cloak as a token of remembrance and the coins Marcus gave him in payment for the work he had done on the farm, not much but enough to see him on his way. How he would travel however had been a source of some slight disagreement. Marcus had assumed that he would go on foot, an assumption that Trenus had shared – Esca had argued that he must have a horse. Marcus had then been inspired to ask whether Trenus could wait until the autumn and take their entire harvest with him also whereupon Esca had crossed his arms over his chest and pouted and Marcus had admitted defeat.

“This benevolence of mine shall not last forever,” Marcus warned him, although he could not manage to tinge his voice with even the slightest note of reproach. “For now, I would do anything to make you happy but do not for one moment think that you can continue to run rings around me for whatever pleases you!”

“We shall see,” Esca had replied, his face blank but his eyes glinting at his victory.

Thus Trenus was gifted one of their horses to his great delight and to Marcus’s secret chagrin and he now loaded his supplies onto the animal’s back in readiness for his departure.

“I have one more thing for you,” Marcus said, holding out the small scroll that he had written the previous night, alone in the farmhouse.

“You have given me enough,” Trenus protested, eyeing the scroll. “Food, clothing, coins, weaponry. What else could I possibly need?”

“If you do not wish to keep it then burn it on the first fire you light. It is a letter from your patron, to be used in the event that you meet troublesome Romans who would question your freedom.”

Trenus stared at the roll of parchment but he took it and tucked it into his pack of belongings. “You are a strange Roman, Marcus Flavius Aquila,” he said, “but you are a good man and I count myself privileged to have known you.”

Marcus nodded and stood aside, allowing Esca to step forward. He suspected that they had already said their goodbyes in private, probably talking to each other in their own language long into the previous night if the dark smudges under Esca’s eyes were any indication and there was no jealousy in his heart as the two Brigantes embraced fiercely.

“Goodbye, my friend,” Trenus said in his accented Latin. “You will never be far from my thoughts.”

“Nor will you be far from mine,” Esca assured him, his voice thick with sorrow.

“Perhaps one day I shall return this way to see how you fare and to repay the kindnesses that have been shown to me.”

“And we shall be here if you do. You will always have a place with us, if need be.”

Trenus smiled and turned to Marcus once more, his eyes now clouded with gravity. “Be worthy of him,” he said. “He is the best of men.”

“I will.”

After one last embrace with Esca, Trenus mounted his horse and rode away from them, turning to look back only once and then he was gone. Marcus moved to stand next to Esca and laid a hand on his shoulder to offer comfort.

“I am sorry,” he said. And he was sorry for he knew that Trenus’s departure had hurt Esca, no matter the brave face he was stoically maintaining.

For a moment Esca said nothing and continued to stare into the distance at an empty horizon but then he nodded his head in acknowledgement. “I know,” he murmured. He looked up at Marcus, smiled at him and took his hand. “It is enough to know that he lives and he is free.”

 

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For the remainder of the day they went about their work, just as they had done so often in the past. Esca was easily distracted though and Marcus was obliged to complete many of the chores that he left unfinished but it was no hardship and he said nothing. The wound of Trenus’s departure was still raw and open but it would heal in time and Marcus would do everything he could to ease Esca’s sense of loss. He deliberately left him alone with his thoughts, content that Esca would come to him when he was ready but as they prepared their evening meal he noticed with a surge of happiness and longing that Esca’s bedding once more lay next to his.

“You are back where you belong,” he said, watching Esca as he stirred the pot over the fire. “This place will seem like home again with you here beside me.”

“Home,” Esca mused, glancing over at Marcus and smiling at him affectionately. “I am fond of this place but we could live in a cave and I would be happy as long as you were there. Wherever you are Marcus, that is home to me.”

He ladled spoonfuls of steaming, mouth-watering stew into their bowls and they ate in silence but their eyes frequently met as they finished their food and then cleared the table, occasionally bumping gently into each other and chuckling.

“You look tired,” Marcus said, glad for the contact but keen for Esca to understand that he would wait a little longer for anything more if he had to. “You should sleep. Today has not been easy for you.”

Esca shook his head though, regarding Marcus with an intense gaze that was almost hypnotic in effect. “I have no wish to sleep, not yet. We have waited long enough.” 

He backed away towards the sleeping area and Marcus followed, barely able to contain himself when Esca stopped and pulled his tunic over his head, dropping it at his feet. With a sharp intake of breath Marcus reached out and brushed the tips of his fingers against Esca’s skin, as if touching him for the very first time.

“I have missed you,” he whispered. 

“Show me, Marcus. Show me how much you have missed me.”

Esca’s grey eyes were almost black as Marcus removed his own tunic, his braccae and his boots until he was completely naked, his cock already painfully hard and jutting out in front of him. This time it was Esca’s turn to reach out and touch, gently stroking him as Marcus rubbed his thumb along his bottom lip. Esca’s lips parted with a soft gasp and Marcus leaned in to kiss him, slowly at first and then deeper as he fumbled with Esca’s braccae and clumsily helped him out of the remainder of his clothing, pulling him close and feeling evidence of an arousal to match his own. 

Esca gasped again, louder this time as Marcus ground against him. “You are a fool Marcus,” he panted, “but you are my fool and I will not be parted from you, not for anything.”

They lay down next to each other and Marcus sought out all those places that drove Esca wild as they kissed and stroked and rubbed faster and harder, reacquainting themselves, whispering each other’s names as already Marcus felt his release gathering deep within himself. It would be over quickly this time but there would be chances enough in the nights to come to linger, limbs entwined, fingers slowly tracing patterns on taut familiar skin. 

They fit together perfectly, as if each had been made especially for the other and Marcus covered Esca with his body, moulding himself against the smaller man, trapping their rigid cocks and sliding them together. Esca grunted and moaned his appreciation at the friction, his fingernails digging into Marcus’s flesh with a delicious pain that Marcus would gladly feel every moment of every day.

“I love you,” he mumbled against Marcus’s mouth. “Everything I have – my heart, my body – it is all yours.”

“As I am yours, Esca.”

“Never leave me.” 

It was more a command than a plea and Marcus had no hesitation in answering.

“Never.”

“Promise me.” Esca’s fingernails dug even deeper and he rolled them both until he lay on top of Marcus, his teeth nipping at every area of skin he could reach as he took one of Marcus’s hands and slid it between them, clasping it around their cocks and squeezing tightly.

The nips became bites, forceful and hungry but Marcus was past caring as he sucked hard at the base of Esca’s neck, hard enough to raise an angry red bruise, marking him, reclaiming him as his own. One stroke, then another and he could no longer hold back. With an uncharacteristically loud, drawn-out cry he spilled at the exact moment Esca released a muffled groan into his shoulder and bucked against him, adding his own release to the warm wet pool that spread between them.

“I promise,” Marcus murmured when he could speak again, his harsh ragged breathing returning slowly to normal.

Esca hummed and slid off him, already half asleep and Marcus let him settle then he pulled some of the furs over them both as best he could and pressed a kiss to the top of Esca’s tousled head, overjoyed to have the man he loved back in his arms.

“Sleep well, my love,” he whispered against the unruly mop of hair. “I will never give you reason to doubt me again, may the gods strike me down if I speak false.”


	14. Chapter 14

“What reason is there for me to go with you?” Esca argued as he pulled more weeds out from between the recently sprouted shoots of wheat. “I have no wish to be served by slaves.”

“I understand that,” Marcus said, standing beside him, “but Manlius’s slaves are well cared for, I promise you, better even than some men treat their own families.”

“They are still slaves.”

“Neighbourliness then,” Marcus tried. “You have had little to do with Manlius since we came here and yet he always invites you to his dinner parties.”

“A triumph of persistence over common sense.”

“A triumph of good manners over bad I should say, especially after he loaned you two freedmen for the farm and his fastest horse when you wanted to follow me to Calleva. You are always so rude about him, calling him a fool when he is in fact as kind and generous a man as you could ever wish to meet. And you call Lucilia plain and sensible as if those were faults she should be shunned for!”

Turning to look up, Esca shot Marcus a scowl at the mention of Lucilia’s name and then carried on with his weeding, trying to think of additional reasons to support his reluctance to socialize with their neighbours. He supposed that maybe he had been a little harsh on them for Manlius had indeed always been welcoming and generous and Lucilia had, thankfully, been rational enough to turn down Marcus’s proposal. 

Esca shuddered at the thought but admitted to himself that he owed her his thanks.

“They are your people Marcus, not mine,” he said. “I have no wish to sit around eating and drinking until I cannot move and discussing boring topics with a bunch of Romans who call themselves farmers!”

“Do you include me in that particular observation?” Marcus asked, chuckling. “It was you who decided we should buy a farm and thus made me a farmer.”

“And your fault entirely for allowing me to make that decision. There is no point in you complaining now.”

“Mea culpa,” Marcus replied. “I do think that you would enjoy the occasion more than you anticipate though for Manlius is not a man to expect excessive formality at his parties. He would be more than happy to hear your views on any subject, freedman or not.”

“And what of the other guests?”

“They are always small gatherings and there would be nobody there whose acquaintance you have not already made once or twice. Popillius Laenas and his wife Tullia are attending. She is a Briton, as you know, and a freedwoman. Also Atius Varus and his brother will be there, although not their wives for they never attend.”

“Wise women,” Esca grumbled.

He stood, slowly stretching his aching body after having been crouched in the same position for so long and he was immensely pleased to feel Marcus’s hands start to knead the protesting muscles in his back. 

“Mmmm,” he hummed contentedly, leaning back against the strong, solid body behind him. “That is most welcome. Your skills are improving.”

“I am always eager to improve them more.”

The feel of Marcus’s cold lips on the back of his neck took Esca by surprise and he smiled as small bursts of pleasure began to chase away the discomfort.

“Do you seek to seduce me into accompanying you?” he asked.

“Is it working?”

Displays of affection in the middle of the day? In the open air? Marcus must indeed greatly desire his company at this dinner party. Esca kept his face turned away so Marcus could not see his grin for he was enjoying this game and was interested to know where it would lead.

“I am not so easily swayed,” he replied eventually, trying to keep his voice stern and uninterested but Marcus knew where he was vulnerable, mouthing at his sensitive ears and Esca heard himself groan as he shuddered involuntarily. “I am willing to let you continue to try however.”

“The wheat will not mind if we take a little time off from removing the weeds,” Marcus murmured, warm breath gusting over Esca’s ear, the sensation making him squirm. “Come, let us go back to the house and discuss your attendance at the dinner party further.”

Esca frowned in disappointment despite the fact that he could feel himself growing hard in his braccae. “No, here,” he pouted. “Persuade me here, in the open.”

Marcus hesitated for only a moment before his hands stopped rubbing Esca’s back and took hold of the hem of his tunic, lifting it so he could stroke the bare skin underneath. “It would be my pleasure,” he growled, his hands deliciously rough against Esca’s abdomen. “I have often wondered what it would be like to indulge ourselves outdoors.”

“You should have told me for I would have been only too happy to show you.” Esca’s disappointment was quickly replaced again by delight and he turned in Marcus’s arms, sucking that full bottom lip into his mouth then kissing along his stubbled jaw and under his chin, teeth scraping over the thick scar there. “We had best move away to one of the pastures though,” he mumbled against Marcus’s throat, “lest we crush the shoots if we fall over. We can ill afford to lose any of our crops unnecessarily.”

Eagerly they clambered over the low, stone wall into the nearest pasture. Esca brushed most of the dirt from his hands and unbuckled the belt at Marcus’s waist, quickly divesting him of his tunic and then stopping to admire the sight before him – the broad chest, the smoothly undulating muscles and the large swelling that tented the front of his braccae. He licked his lips as Marcus looked around nervously.

“There is nobody to see us,” Esca assured him softly, roughly tweaking one of Marcus’s nipples to get his attention, “unless you are concerned about distressing the horses.” He bent his head and bit at the already abused nipple, eliciting a happy moan from Marcus who grinned at him shyly and allowed himself to be pulled down onto the grass. “When I am finished with you, you will be eager to interrupt our work for this every day.”

“I am already beginning to see what I have been missing.”

Esca chuckled, imagining long summer days working in the fields punctuated by breaks for indulging in more pleasant entertainments. “It will be even better in the summer when the sun warms our naked skin,” he said.

“Hmmm, it is perhaps a little chilly today.”

Hurriedly Esca threw off his own tunic and unlaced his braccae, stroking himself a few times before freeing the rigid length of Marcus’s cock and grasping it firmly.

“Then I had best warm you up,” he purred, ready to demonstrate the joys of an outdoor tumble but once again he was taken by surprise as Marcus batted his hand away and rolled him onto his back, pinning his arms above his head. 

“Not so fast,” Marcus growled, straddling him and squeezing tightly as Esca tried to free his wrists. “Will you come with me to Manlius’s dinner party?”

“No.” Esca grinned and wriggled but Marcus held firm and ground viciously against his groin, making him groan loudly. “Perhaps then,” he bit out as his back arched up off the grass but the more he struggled, the tighter Marcus held him down until, happy to agree to absolutely anything, he wailed “Yes, yes, oh by the gods Marcus, yes!”

Marcus did not answer but he made a rumbling noise deep in his throat and leaned down, kissing Esca hard, their teeth clashing as finally Esca freed himself. Legs entangled and arms grappling for purchase they toppled onto their sides, fumbling for each other’s cocks and continuing to kiss greedily as they stroked each other towards completion in the grass, their moans floating up into the air to mingle with birdsong. 

 

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“Ah, Esca! Welcome, welcome.” Manlius greeted Esca in the atrium of his villa with the gusto of a man greeting a long-lost relative then he turned to Marcus with a look of pure delight on his chubby face. “At last, Aquila, you have induced this fine fellow to accompany you. How did you manage it? Wine, you must have wine!” he declared loudly. “Now, you do know all the others don’t you? Of course you do, how foolish of me.” Manlius beamed at all his guests. “Welcome friends,” he said, his arms outstretched. “Welcome one and all.”

Esca smiled politely but he stayed closer than necessary to Marcus’s side and Marcus wished nothing more than to be able to put a comforting arm around his shoulders. 

“My apologies for not visiting sooner,” he said, hoping to occupy their host’s attention and quell Esca’s unease at being singled out, “but there has been much to do on the farm.”

“Yes, of that I have no doubt,” Manlius agreed fervently. “Are the two of you managing well enough? I am always happy to lend you some men to help, you need only ask. It is unfortunate that your other freedman has been gone these past few weeks but I understand fully your decision to let him go. I’ve seen many of them on their way myself, as you know. I would have been glad to meet him but it was not to be for by the time I was up and about, he had already come and gone.”

“Yes, your illness,” Marcus said as he wondered idly what Trenus would have thought of an occasion such as this. “I am glad to see you fully recovered.”

“Oh, it was nothing I tell you, nothing. Lucilia, the darling girl, does like to fuss over her old papa. Confined to my bed like a prisoner I was! In the beginning I suspected there were things afoot in the house that she wished to keep me from.” 

Marcus raised his eyebrows. “Surely not.”

He turned his head slightly, catching Lucilia’s eye and she smiled at him warmly. 

“And then, once she stopped fussing so much I really did begin to feel quite unwell so she was right all along,” Manlius continued, oblivious. “The perils of advancing in years, don’t you think? Ah, now here is Laenas and his most delightful lady. I am beyond ecstatic that you could all attend this evening, it has been far too long.” He clapped his hands. “Oh Lucilia, my sweet, are we ready to dine?”

He scurried away leaving Marcus and Esca to greet Popillius Laenas, a rather short, bearded man and his much taller, much younger wife. 

“Will you regale us with your tale of heroism and peril again?” Laenas asked. “I swear I never tire of hearing it.”

“Perhaps we could hear from Esca,” the statuesque Tullia proposed. She had been Laenas’s slave until he freed her and married her and as the only other native Briton guest, she no doubt wished to hear Esca’s version of events.

“If he wishes to tell,” said Marcus as Esca slid him a look that said he had no intention of providing any sort of entertainment. “I am loathe to make promises on his behalf.”

Manlius returned with Atius Varus and his brother Publius in tow and began rambling on about crops and cattle and the recent weather. Esca rolled his eyes but he smiled and followed Marcus into the triclinium, reclining a little awkwardly on the couch next to him when they were allocated their positions. 

“Must we eat like this?” he asked, quietly so none of the other guests would hear. “It is most uncomfortable.”

“Manlius is our host and if he wishes his guests to recline for dinner then we recline. Surely you can manage.”

“One more thing I will never understand about Romans.”

“If all you are going to do is complain then I shall soon regret persuading you to come.”

Esca leaned across and whispered into Marcus’s ear. “You enjoyed persuading me.”

“That I did,” Marcus agreed, hiding his smile behind his cup of wine as a flush of heat spread through him at the reminder of what they had done in the pasture earlier that day.

Wine flowed while the guests ate at their leisure and the food was excellent as always with assorted dishes of fish and venison and vegetables followed by sweet pastries and fruits, many heartfelt compliments being bestowed upon Manlius and his cook. Esca did not say much throughout the dinner but he appeared quite content to listen to the conversation and despite having denied any wish to eat and drink until he could no longer move, he filled plate after plate with food from the table and drank copious quantities of watered wine although he insisted on taking the pitcher of wine from the serving slave and filling his own cup.

“This is good,” he told Marcus. “Now I know why you are always so eager to come here.”

“That is not the only reason,” Marcus protested. “I come also for the company and to foster good relations with our neighbours. We will benefit from mutual assistance and if times are hard, we may rely upon their goodwill.”

“May we also rely on their wine?”

“Yes, that too,” Marcus admitted with a wry smile, savouring the last mouthful from his cup. “I would like to speak more privately with Lucilia for I have not had much opportunity yet this evening. Will you be alright for a while?” With the food courses finished and some of the guests leaving their couches to stretch their legs, this would be his best chance to talk to her away from the general conversation. Indeed, he had not seen her since the fateful day he attempted his clumsy proposal but he held her in high regard still, considering her a good and loyal friend. “I will not be long.”

“As long as you don’t ask her to marry you again,” Esca whispered, not quite as quietly as he should have, but he was not annoyed and Marcus ignored the comment, attributing it to Esca’s tongue merely being loosened by the effects of far more wine than he was used to.

Leaving him quite happily sipping from his cup and listening to Varus and his brother bicker as siblings were wont to do, Marcus accompanied Lucilia and Tullia to the peristylium where they sauntered around the plants and exchanged pleasantries, the air thick with the scent of Manlius’s prized imported roses.

“I am glad that you are here this evening,” Lucilia said to him when finally Tullia lagged behind to admire the flowers, “and that you seem much more at peace than when I saw you last.”

“Thanks in part to you for standing up to my nonsensical notions.”

She wore a plain gown of pale green linen, free of jewellery and other adornments, her hair styled without undue fuss and Marcus wondered whether in another life they would have made a compatible couple, lacking passion perhaps but nevertheless content.

“And what of your unsuitable match?” Lucilia asked, startling him out of his musings. “Did you take my advice?”

“All is well,” Marcus confided, feeling suddenly shy and bowing his head to avoid her eyes. “I am forgiven.”

“Good,” she laughed, patting his arm. “I hope you will find happiness together.”

Whether she knew it was Esca or not, she did not say but Marcus was sure she was too discreet to ever ask outright or question the lack of any woman in his life. She understood what it was to be a Roman who wished to follow a different path than the one expected of them – free in name but yet restricted by law and convention. She understood and therefore would not judge, and that was enough.

“But what of you?” Marcus asked. “I feel obliged to help find you a worthy husband but sadly I know of nobody unless you harbour a secret wish to marry my uncle.”

They both laughed at that and when she had regained her composure, Lucilia politely declined the offer.

“I did however have a mind to ask father’s permission to visit my elder sister in Londinium,” she told him. “Manlia is with child again and although she has no need of help for she married well and wants for nothing, I thought to offer her some assistance. When I last received word from her she told me that her husband has a few acquaintances who may be suitable and also a most pleasant cousin who is newly arrived on these shores and who hopes to set up as a farmer.”

“Does she know that you wish to marry for love?”

“She does.”

“Then I will ask the gods to look favourably upon you,” Marcus said, “and bring you everything you seek.”

“You are a true friend.”

“As you deserve.”

“If I go, will you watch over father for me?” Lucilia asked. “He has all the help that he needs for the farm and he will be well looked after if I am away for a while but it would comfort me to know that you were on hand to oversee.”

“It would be my honour.”

“Thank you, dear Marcus. Now, you are in need of more wine and I believe that Esca needs rescuing. He looks dreadfully bored.”

Esca, once rescued, was glassy-eyed but whether from boredom, too much wine or both Marcus was unsure. They settled back onto their couches and when both Marcus and Esca declined to repeat the story of the eagle standard, the assembled guests listened instead to Manlius recount various stories of his soldiering days.

“Are you betrothed then?” Esca asked, spluttering into his cup, evidently amused and wishing to torment Marcus with his previous lapse of character.

“No,” Marcus replied in all seriousness, “and neither is my uncle.”

Esca’s amusement vanished and he frowned, bemused at the cryptic response. Unable to understand after much consideration, he decided to turn his attention back to Manlius’s booming voice. “I cannot imagine him getting up to so much mischief!” he whispered hoarsely into Marcus’s ear. “I suspect he has made up these tales.”

“The stories never change no matter how many times he tells them so there is every chance that they are true,” Marcus replied, draining his cup and immediately refilling it, admiring the deep red hue of the wine as Manlius droned on in the background. “One day, we will plant vines and make our own wine.”

Esca nodded his head vigorously in agreement. “And that is one idea of yours where you shall hear no complaint from me.”

 

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It was dark when they drunkenly stumbled home together, a borrowed lantern lighting their way.

“I must bow to your better judgement,” Esca slurred, bounding ahead of Marcus and turning back to make an elaborate bow. “I did indeed enjoy myself this evening and I take back everything disparaging I ever said about Manlius and the lovely Lucilia.”

“I told you,” Marcus said, grinning as Esca finished his bow and settled back into step beside him.

“You did and you were right.”

“So will you be joining us for Manlius’s next dinner party?”

“That is not a given for it still does not sit well with me to be served by slaves, happy or not. I reserve the right to choose for myself if I ever attend in the future.”

“Well said, Esca. Well said.”

They continued on in silence and Marcus suddenly realised that he was alone for Esca had stopped and was staring up into the darkness, swaying slightly. 

“Has the wine made you ill?” he asked. “You did drink rather a lot.”

“No,” Esca said. “I was wondering if the sky looks the same where Trenus is.”

“He is probably watching the heavens somewhere far from here and wondering the same thing about you.” Marcus retraced his steps to stand beside him, joining him in looking up at the night sky which was peppered with stars, the moon pale and bright but only half full. “Never fear Esca, he will find a place to call home,” he said softly, “and he will find someone to call his own.”

“We were inseparable as children then, as we grew older, I thought I would never love anyone as much as him. I was wrong.” Esca met Marcus’s gaze, smiling. “I chose well when I chose you.”

Marcus reached out and briefly stroked a hand over Esca’s hair then laid an arm over his shoulders, hugging him close. An arm slid across his back in response and they supported each other as they lurched onwards, the lantern in Esca’s free hand casting erratic beams of light ahead of them until he swung it with too much force and dropped it. The flame immediately extinguished and after much laughter and several curses they left the lantern lying where it was, to be retrieved later, walking the remainder of the way with only the light of the moon to guide them. Soon the gateway that led to their farm finally loomed into view and Marcus was reminded of the times before when he had staggered home, drunk and weary, to find Esca waiting for him there. He admitted to himself that it was much better to have Esca by his side instead of waiting and as they passed through the gate to make their way up the path, his thoughts turned to how he had so nearly lost Esca through his own foolishness and how happy he was to have been given a second chance with this feisty, stubborn Briton he loved so dearly.

In one quick move, Marcus grabbed a squealing Esca’s waist, slung him over one shoulder with an ease that belied his own intoxicated state and carried him over the threshold into their house.


End file.
